


Infinity On High

by Ria_Zul123



Series: The Infinity On High Project [1]
Category: The Youngblood Chronicles (Music Video)
Genre: Gen, Just One Yesterday(mentioned), My First Work in This Fandom, it was fun, this is my first fanfic!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8497033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ria_Zul123/pseuds/Ria_Zul123
Summary: It was all just fun and games until they found the suitcase of doom. Then... they got thrown into the worst mess they had ever been through. With the fate of the world at stake, lying in the hands of four friends who have no idea what they're doing, They're going to have to fight for the world, if they're going to be remembered tomorrow.





	1. Prologue

_Prologue_

_He knew that he wasn’t supposed to let them find him. Icel had told him so many times that it was ingrained into his memory. But that was before he had found himself face to face with so many agents, he was lucky he hadn’t been killed. The worst part about it was that they were still chasing him… and he had the most powerful weapon in the universe in his left hand. He jumped over a fence into the quiet backyard of a house, stopped to catch his breath, and then picked the lock of the porch door and let himself inside._

  
_The house was quiet, he assumed no one was home. A quick glance at his smart-glass confirmed this- showing no heat signatures of people. He quickly walked up the steps to the second floor and placed the suitcase that held the Infinity weapon on top of one of the beds. Then he ran. He got outside, crossed the street, and found himself face-to-face with seven agents. Their leader was standing in front of them, a revolver in her hand._

_“Oh hello! I wasn’t expecting to see you! We would have planned a party,” The woman snaps. He barely paid attention to her, instead glancing at the AK-47s in each of the agents’ hands. “So? Hand it over.”_

_“Hand what over?” he asked her, out of breath. She glared at him._

_“The weapon,” she answered simply._

_“I don’t have it,” he whispered. The woman’s smile faded._

_“…What?” she asked, leaning forward and facing him._

_“I don’t have it,” he repeated. She slapped him across the face, fire bursting through his cheek._

_“Well!” She said, clasping her hands behind her back. “The rebel made it harder for us. But don’t worry. We’ll find it.” She turned and began to walk away, and then she stopped. “Finish him.”_

_Gunshots rang throughout the backdrop of the quiet city street._


	2. Spoilers, Mutants, Weapons, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Chapter on this! This is completely part of my imagination, and there are some plot holes, so any constructive criticism iis appreciated.

Before we get on with this, almost everyone dies at the end. Sorry, I don’t like spoilers either, but I’m just warning you. If you freaked out about that sentence, put this down and back away slowly. Just kidding. Sort of. But really. Until two weeks ago, I was a normal teenager… until the whole ‘kidnapping-arson-burning-cutting-off-my-hand-brainwashing-me’ thing happened. You’re probably thinking, How the heck did you survive, then? Let me tell you something: I almost didn’t.

So here’s the thing. There’s two groups of people, The Society and us. They want to get their hands on this thing called the Infinity Weapon(?). And then someone threw my friends and I in the mix when someone left the infinity weapon on my bed. So… coincidence? Probably. Did I like the consequences? Not at all.

It all started after we came back from Disneyland, when I found the suitcase of doom and I got kidnapped by genetically altered humans.

“YOU’LL BE SURPRISED, I WILL STILL RISE!!!” My sister screams, she takes off her Beats just in time for my mom to say,

“Lindsey, take those things off! You’re driving your brother crazy!” I’m barely paying any attention to them, instead focused on typing on my Mac. I look back at my sister, and she sticks out her tongue. “What was your favorite part?” my mom asks us.

“EVERYTHING!” Lindsey screams. To be honest, she just had seven packs of skittles in one serving, so she’s pretty hyper.

“What about you?” my mom asks, glancing at me. I shrug.

“I liked the roller coasters,” I mutter.

“You didn’t like ‘it’s a small world?’” Lindsey asks me. I nod.

“Sure,” I answer. I go back to typing. Sometimes when I’m bored or when I’m on a long car ride, I like to make up random stories and/or songs. I’m a geek like that. Lindsey groans.

“You don’t like anything. You just like hanging out with your friends.” My mom stops the car in front of our house. I get outside, help my mom with a suitcase, and open the door of the house.

“Welcome home!” My mom says, a little too cheerfully.

“I don’t want to come home! I want to stay in Disneyland!” my sister yells. My mom turns on the lights, and I walk up the stairs, which groan underneath my weight. I notice the door to my room is open, which is strange in itself. I thought I had closed it when I left. I nudge the door entirely ajar with my foot. My room, at the first glance, looks normal. Then I see the thing on my bed. I blink. It’s a metal briefcase, the type you see people carrying on the way to work. I grab it, and it’s surprisingly heavy. I want to see what’s inside, but there’s a lock and a small screen next to it, which I guess is for fingerprint recognition. Just because, I set the combination to 0-0-0-0 and put my finger on the screen. Nothing happens. Of course not. Then the screen starts showing static, and then I see a person standing in a dark room. He takes a deep breath, as if preparing for a speech.

“If you found this, you’re in grave danger.” Oh thanks. No ‘hello?’ “I’m going to die. I don’t have a lot of time. Don’t think this is a little prank, because it’s not.” Well, that idea went down the drain. “My name is James. I work for Icel McIntyre. She and I, and a lot of other people, are against this organization known as The Society.” I open my Mac and search up ‘The Society’. Nothing comes up. Typical. “These people want a super-weapon we call the Infinity Weapon. It’s the most powerful thing in the universe, and in the wrong hands… someone could destroy the world.” Doomsday prediction. Illuminati confirmed. “The briefcase in front of you contains this weapon. IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT YOU KEEP IT FROM FALLING INTO THE WRONG HANDS. If you think it won’t be safe with you, take it to the Florist on 13th street. HURRY-“ I hear sounds, and a scream. The message ends.  
I have never been so freaked out in my life. I debate whether to tell my mom, and then I grab my phone and call my friends.

“Hello?”

“I need you to come to my house, Andy. Now,” I snap.

“Why…” he starts.

“I don’t have time to explain. Call the others,” I say, and then I end the call. I grab the briefcase. What the heck could be inside? I walk down the steps, and Lindsey’s eyes narrow.

“What’s that?” she asks me.

“Nothing,” I mutter. My phone buzzes just as the doorbell rings. My sister opens the door, and I hear her groan.

“Really? Hey, Patrick, your friends are here!” I hear footsteps pace towards me, and Pete strides into the living room.

“Okay, could you tell me what the hell is going on, Patrick? Andy called me and he said you were sick or something. You okay? What’s that thing? Are you going to work?” I roll my eyes.

“No I’m not. I found this thing on my bed and it had a video of a guy telling me that if I found this I would be in danger,” I answer. Pete’s eyes widen.

“Jesus. This is either a mean prank or we just landed ourselves in some seriously deep shit,” he gasps, his dark eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, um the thing is, I don’t know where ‘a safe place’ is,” I say, and Pete takes a deep breath. “But he said something about a… florist?” Pete snorts.

“Yeah sure, like a florist knows about the suitcase of doom,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever. Just keep an eye on my family, okay? And by the way, tell and Andy  
and Joe about this too,” I say. I start to walk towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Pete asks.

“Whatever is in this suitcase, it’s important. If it’s our job to protect it, we might as well go down trying,” I reply, glancing at my friend. “I’m going to go find the florist.” I open the door.

“Patrick?” Pete calls. I stop and turn around. “Don’t make any stupid-ass decisions, okay?” I roll my eyes.

“Okay, whatever.” I get outside and look at my phone. There’s about 72 new texts(no surprise there) and all of them are from either Andy, Joe, or Pete.(again, no surprise.):

Andy-Anyone tell me what the hell is going on?

Joe-IDK, Pete just told us that we had to be careful.

Andy-This is fucking bullshit.

Pete-Guys, this is srious. IDK what the hell is going on, but there’s something wrong.

Andy-Well, tell us what it is, then!

Pete-...

I put my phone in my pocket and walk towards the florist. People walk past me, laughing and talking. I sigh and stop at the intersection. I put my hand into the handle of the case in such a way that no one could take it off me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a kid riding a bicycle.

“Hey, mister!” he calls. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s talking to me. I turn around.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Have you seen a soccer ball around here? Neon green and blue?” The boy runs his hand through his curly brown hair, and I adjust my glasses.

“No. I’m sorry,” I answer. The boy shrugs.

“Oh. S’okay. Thanks anyways,” he mutters. He rides off. A young woman stops next to me and looks at her smartwatch, annoyed.

“Come on,” she whispers. “I need to get to that appointment.” I glance at her, and she walks towards me. She takes out her phone, and glances at me out of the corner of one eye. A chill runs down my spine. You’re being paranoid, I think to myself. The woman takes a breath.

“Have you ever been late to something and little things seem to distract you, only making you even more late?” the woman asks me. I shrug.

“Once,” I answer. The pedestrian light turns on, and I walk towards the opposite street.

“Have a nice day, Patrick,” she calls, and I freeze. My mind spins, and I turn around.

“How do you…” I feel a sharp prick on the side of my neck, and I spin around. The woman’s standing there, smiling. There’s something off about her. How did she already get past me? I didn’t see her…I blink out white spots in my eyes and shake my head. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she answers, and I notice she’s holding something in her hand… I suddenly have a hard time breathing, and the world starts to spin… I hit the ground and my vision goes black.

 

————

 

I walk into the office, my arms crossed. The man behind the desk isn’t interested. He stands, and he’s a foot taller than me, his eyes as black as coal and his skin as pale as winter. We only know him as the Director, and he’s my boss, in a sense.

“Rachael McIntyre. Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks me, his voice deep and authoritative.

“More than what I said to the guards? No,” I answer.

“You let the weapon get away,” He snaps. “Do you realize the complications of this?” I nod once. He clenches his fists, and my left hand slides down to where I have my semiautomatic pistol holstered at my hip. The door opens and a woman walks in. She’s the second-in-command here and she strides directly at the man. The woman whispers something to him, and the Director’s eyes widen.

“Is there something wrong?” I ask, my eyes narrowing.

“I just got great news,” he answers me. “We have the weapon in our possession.”

 

————

 

My eyes flutter open, and everything’s blurry and out of focus. It takes me a minute to realize that I don’t have my glasses on, and there are two people in front of me. I can only make out their vague shapes. They’re talking, and as whatever that woman injected me with wears off, my head clears and I can hear them properly: a woman and a man talking.

“…has the weapon, but we can’t get it off of him,” the man says.

“Oh come on!” the woman snaps. She walks over to me and grabs my chin, pulling my head up. “Wake up.” I glance at her, and my eyes narrow.

“Who are you?” I ask her. The woman blinks, and then she laughs.

“That’s none of your business,” she answers. I try to move but find I’m strapped to something that looks like the electric chair. My left hand is splayed out, with the briefcase attached. “Hand it over.” I shrug.

“It’s right there. I don’t want it,” I snap. “Just take it and let me go.” The woman smiles, and then she slides something out of a sheath at her side that makes my blood run cold: a knife as long as my forearm. I gulp.

“Okay, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” she says.

“I don’t want the hard way,” I gasp.

“Too late,” she states, and then she cuts off my left hand.

I used to think that when I got a paper cut or when I fell and scraped my knee when I was six(I still have a scar) it was painful. I had never felt the definition of pain. Paper cuts and scrapes? They were nothing. Fire explodes through my arm, searing my brain, traveling through my body. I can’t breathe, and the pain threatens to make my vision go black. Spots dance in my eyes, and I hear someone screaming. Oh wait. That ‘someone’ is me. The woman yanks my severed hand from the case, and she gives the case to the man. She looks at my hand and puts it on a table next to me.

_Oh my God I’m going to die I’m going to bleed out I’m not getting out of here and she just cut off my hand I can’t do anything she cut off my dominant hand I can’t write or type or do anything oh my God I’m going to die… My mind is a little over reactive. Okay, calm down. CALM DOWN. Maybe my friends can find me. But what if I’m not even in Los Angeles anymore? OH GOD…_ I close my eyes, and the woman laughs.

“Are you scared?” she asks me, her voice saccharine sweet. I don’t answer, and I open one eye just as she stabs a needle into my left hand… or what used to be my left hand. More like ‘she stabs a needle into my left stump of a hand.’ I gasp, and then my arm starts going numb. The straps around my arms snap off, and the man grabs my wrist(my good wrist), pulling me up.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask.

“Oh please, rebel. Shut the fuck up. Now,” the woman responds. I open my mouth to say something but then I stop. “Come on.” The man and the woman put me on a cold metal gurney, and they strap me down. I feel blood dripping from the stump of my hand. Then I feel another sharp prick against my neck, and… the world goes black again.

Well, this is one way to spend your summer vacation.


	3. We're Going To Kill You, But First Let's Have a Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to make this chapter go from R to PG, because my little cousin wanted to read it, and I didn't want her mind to be scarred. Enjoy!

My eyes open to complete darkness. I feel something uncomfortable in my right hand, but my hands aren’t strapped to a chair or anything. A single light turns on. Actually, lights turn on. I’m sitting at the end of a table, and there are three people slumped over at seats, unconscious. Oh joy. My friends have been abducted too. I move my hands(wait, nope, HAND) and try to get up, but there’s a metal strap around my waist. Shit. I look around. Apart from my three unconscious friends and I,there’s no one else in the room.   
Correction: No one else in the room that I can see.   
Pete’s eyes begin to flutter open, and a door creaks open. I hear footsteps, and… Amelia Jenkins walks inside, carrying a plate of food and looking extremely smug. Amelia is an old senile senior citizen who is always throwing rocks at birds and screaming, “FLY AWAY, EVIL SQUIRRELS!” Yeah. She isn’t in her right mind.   
“Hello my little precious!!!” She yells. My eyes widen. “Dinner’s ready!” A chill runs down my spine. “What do you want?”   
“Um, nothing, how about you let us go?” I ask. Amelia Jenkins turns around slowly, her yellow eyes… wait, what? YELLOW EYES? Last time I checked, yellow eyes were not normal.   
“Oh I can’t do that, Patrick,” she says, and then she changes, going from old senile lady to a young woman in dark clothes, and her yellow eyes narrow. Oh crap. “But are you hungry?” BOY! ARE YOU JOKING ME? I JUST GOT KIDNAPPED, DRUGGED, MY HAND JUST GOT CHOPPED OFF, I AM BEING HELD PRISONER OF AMELIA JENKINS, THE OLD SENIOR CITIZEN THAT’S CRAZY, THERE IS A SUITCASE OF DOOM IN PLAY RIGHT NOW, AND YOU’RE ASKING ME IF I’M HUNGRY!? HELL YEAH I AM! What I say in real life:  
“Um, sure.” My voice breaks, and I realize that it’s hoarse from screaming when my hand got cut off. The woman smiles.   
“Well! That’s great. At least you’re awake.” She sets the plate in front of me. I look at it, and it takes me a minute to figure out what it is. When I figure it out, I empty all the contents of my stomach over the side of the chair. I retch until I have nothing left, and then I gasp, the acrid taste of bile in my throat. I cough and gag. I thought that after the whole ‘hand mutilation’ thing, I thought the horrors were over.   
But I was wrong. Of course.   
The woman sees me staring at the thing on the plate, and she frowns. Old Amelia Jenkins is back again.   
“What’s wrong, honey? You don’t like it?” In response, I kick her in the shin. I’m just going to say this: For an old lady/creepy yellow eyed woman, she hits hard. She slaps me across the face, and my head slams into the back of my chair. Spots dance in my vision, and suddenly my sister’s standing in front of me, smiling, her face full of concern.  
“Are you okay?” She starts… I blink and shake my head. Okay, now you’re hallucinating, Patrick. Great. I blink and there’s no one in the room. Just me and my unconscious friends. I hear someone cough, and Andy raises his head. He sees me and grins.  
“Well, at least I’m not the only one that got kidnapped,” he mutters. “How’s life?” If looks could kill, Andy would be in pieces in his grave. He raises his hands in surrender. “These people are crazy. Why would they kidnap us?” I shrug.  
“I think it has to do something with that suitcase I found,” I answer.   
“This is bullshit,” Pete mutters. I glance at him, and his eyes meet mine. “We’ve got to get out of here. But first, who’s hungry?” I look at the table and realize that there’s food on it. Lot’s of food. And I feel like haven’t eaten in a decade. Then I remember my drugged up/sedated/almost unconscious revelation, and I suddenly don’t have any appetite whatsoever.   
“Let’s find out how to escape first, then we’ll eat,” Andy replies. I nod.   
“I have no idea where we are. We’re all half conscious, tired, and we’ve been kind of tortured. There are people here who aren’t normal.” I shudder, thinking about the woman’s yellow eyes.   
“Well, we can at least try to figure out what they want. Do you still have the case?” Pete asks me. I shake my head, and look at what used to be my left hand, which is almost covered by my jacket sleeve.  
“This lady took it. I think she’s their leader…?” I start. Andy shakes his head, just as Joe wakes up. He yawns and looks at all of us.   
“Uh… how long was I out?”   
“That’s a good question,” Pete mutters. “I have no fucking idea.” I grab the strap tying me to the chair and try to yank it off. With only one hand, it’s not easy, and then someone grabs my head and pulls me backwards. I look up and I’m staring at a pair of yellow eyes.   
“Oh, you shouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t like if you hurt yourself…” the woman strides towards us. She grabs Joe’s head and pinches his cheeks. Joe tries to get out of her grasp, but she smiles and her eyes narrow. She checks our IVs and turns a full circle. “This is going to be great. I am going to have so much fun.” She walks towards me. “And you… you’re going to be our little secret weapon.” My head starts to spin, and I feel myself blacking out(AGAIN!!) “I can’t wait.”

 

\--------

 

I run towards the door just as Courtney turns the corner.   
“Hey! Rachael McIntyre!” I spin around. She strides towards me, her eyes narrowed. She looks like she’s just been through a hurricane. Her blond hair is stuck up in every single direction, she has cuts and bruises on her arms, and the look in her eyes is murderous. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”  
“Um…” CRAP! I’m usually a master at lying, but today I’m blocked. “I was going to check on the prisoners.” Courtney glares at me, and then she walks away.  
“Remember about the Director’s threat,” she calls. A chill runs down my spine. As soon as she leaves, I sag against the door. I close my eyes, and breathe deeply. Then I hear the scream. I jump, and my eyes snap open. Stupid enhanced hearing that lets me hear everything. I walk to the exit and push the door open. Blinding sunlight streams through, and I step out into the street of Los Angeles, California. I close the door quickly, and I take off running as fast I can, my enhanced legs making me go faster. I go past drab houses and the occasional lamborghini, and then I’m in front of the most conspicuous place in the world: Paula’s Flowers. I open the door, and an old woman looks up from behind the counter.   
“Hello! How may I help you?” she asks me. I take a deep breath and I hope Michael was telling the truth.   
“Special delivery… for an Icel… McIntyre?” I’ve never seen someone move as fast an agent. As fast as me. The woman leaps over the counter, putting me in a choke hold, but I’m ready. I knee her in the privates and snap her wrists. Sparks fly from the broken limbs, and I realize she’s an android. She stumbles back, and her eyes narrow.   
“You’re one of them.” She says it like it’s a disease.   
“I need your help,” I tell her. The woman cocks her head. “Please. They’ve found it. They have the Infinity Weapon.” She stops.   
“What?”   
“They have the Weapon.”  
“How?” The woman asks me. “James…”   
“James? You mean Patrick,” I answer.   
“Patrick? What do you mean? There is no person that Icel knows named Patrick,” the robot woman states.   
“Well, that’s weird. They have four people. Teenagers. One seventeen year old, an eighteen year old, and two nineteen year olds. Patrick, Joseph, Peter, and Andy,” I say. “Maybe they got the wrong people… but they have the weapon.”  
“That’s impossible,” the robot whispers. I shake my head.  
“I saw it. It was on Courtney’s desk,” I say.   
“What was on Courtney’s desk?” a voice asks me. I spin around. Oh crap. Logan’s standing in the doorway. He’s one of Courtney’s nephews and he’s honestly scarier than the agents themselves.   
“It’s none of your business, Logan,” I mutter. The boy puts his hands on his hips.   
“Of course it’s my business. It’s obviously Courtney’s business. Is there something you’re not telling us, Rachael?” He takes out his iPhone 7(yes, he’s only nine and he has an iPhone 7)and opens GarageBand. The woman walks towards him.   
“Could you leave? Unless you want to buy flowers…” static splits the air, and the woman keels forward, the energy frying the circuits in her head. I wince, my own enhanced ears ringing. For a long time, my mind is a jumble, and I can’t think.   
“What were you telling her?” Logan asks me. I stand there in horror as word spill out of my mind without my consent.  
“I-was-telling-her-about-the-Infinity-Weapon,” I gasp. I blink, and the haze in my mind clears.   
“Now why would you do that?” he asks me. I sigh, and then my mind becomes hazy and foggy.  
“Because-I-was-trying-to-warn-” I close my mouth, even as the mind control tries to make me speak. Logan’s eyes narrow.   
“Because why?” he asks me. I manage to focus.  
“Nothing. Because nothing,” I snap. I walk towards Logan. He glares at me.   
“Yeah sure,” he mutters. “Why were you at a florist, of all places?” I shrug.  
“Maybe I want to buy flowers,” I answer. We both walk back towards the building that holds a dark secret. Back to the place where it all began. To where people were going to fight for the Infinity Weapon.


	4. I Get Brainwashed By Supermodels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own any of Fall Out Boy's songs in any way.

I don’t know where you’re going but do you have room for one more troubled soul? I don’t where I’m going but I don’t think I’m coming home…   
I open my eyes, fighting the drowsiness. Okay, why the heck do I have one of those songs I made up stuck in my head? I try to move my head and something tugs at the skin of my forehead. I see wires leading to… wait a second. There’s a machine next to me, and the wires end at that. I look to my left and see another machine that looks suspiciously like a cross between the suitcase of doom and a CD player…? I hear footsteps, and a kidnapper walks through the door. My mind forms one random thought: Are they honestly all girls? Then a man walks in behind her, and that thought goes down the drain.   
“So this is him? He doesn’t look like much,” the man says. The woman laughs, and she looks at the man.   
“Well, actually he’s a fighter, but after this he’ll be ours. Our secret weapon,” she whispers, just loud enough so that I can hear. She walks towards the seat I’m in and turns on the machine on my right. “You’re going to feel a little pain, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Tell me when.” The man looks over me, down to the stump end of my left arm. His eyes lock on the woman’s and he nods. She turns on something, and sharp pain goes through my skull.   
“Jeez, what the hell was that?” I ask. The woman smiles creepily.  
“Oh come on. I have it at the lowest setting,” she states, tsking. She turns the knob, and more pain starts going through my brain at a faster pace.   
And I swear, I’ll check in, tomorrow if I don’t wake up dead. This is the road to ruin, and we’ve started at the end…   
The pain in my head intensifies to the point where I have to bite on my lip to keep from screaming. I taste something tangy and I realize I’ve drawn blood. Shit. I try to keep from screaming, and the woman smiles.   
“Well. The experiment won’t kick in for a while. I’m going to check on the other prisoners,” the woman says. The man nods. Another sharp burst of pain attacks my brain, and this time I actually let out a scream. “But first, turn the experimentation to the max.” The man nods. He puts his hand on the knob, and his eyes lock on mine: yellow clashing with blue. He smiles, and then he turns the knob.   
Say yeah, let’s be alone together, we can stay young forever, scream it at the top of your lungs…   
My own screams can be heard throughout the halls.  
\-------  
My eyes open. At first, I don’t get what I see. It’s so random, I almost laugh. Almost. There are three little girls sitting in front of me at at a table, with a few eggs, a cabbage(?), and rotten tomatoes. I try to move and get off the stool I’m sitting on, but then I realize something else: I’m wearing a straitjacket. I’m wearing an effing straitjacket. A black haired girl with green eyes picks up the cabbage. Then I hear the scream. I almost jump out of my seat. The screams barely seem human, going on for about a minute before there’s a pause. Then they start up again.   
“Hi mister,” the black haired girl says. I glance at her.  
“Hey,” I mutter. She smiles at me, and then an egg comes flying at my face and hits me square on the nose. My first thought is, really? That throw was lousy. You couldn’t even hit me on the forehead? Then another egg hits me in the eye and pain explodes through it. I blink out part of the yolk, and I close my eyes. This isn’t happening. I’m probably dreaming. Jesus, please don’t let this be happening. I’m getting food thrown at me by little girls. What…? Another piece of food hits him, and then the door opens. A woman walks in, and she smiles when she sees me.   
“How are you enjoying your accommodations?”she asks me.  
“Um actually, next time could you not tell them to throw food at me?” I answer. The woman glances at the girls. “It’s not nice, and you’re wasting food.” The woman smiles. She turns and walks away, but before she something that makes me groan.  
“You guys can continue.”  
\------  
Screams snap me out of my unconsciousness. I look up, but there’s no one else in the room except me. Unless you count the mannequins… what the hell? I look around, and then when I try to move I find out I have a straitjacket on. There’s lights blinding me from every single direction, and I hear footsteps. More kidnappers? Really? A woman walks inside the room, and clicks a picture of me. Oh wow. Didn’t know evil maniacs had paparazzi. I notice something strange about her: her left arm ends in a hook prosthetic. I blink, and suddenly I have this strange image of Captain Hook in my head.   
“So how are you?” she asks me, her voice strangely soothing in the middle of all this confusion.   
“I’m great. Listen, do you know how to get out of here?” I ask. The woman’s eyes narrow, and with a shudder I notice that her eyes are yellow. What…?   
“Oh, I wouldn’t tell you that… but maybe if you’re nice I can help you.” She smiles, and my eyes widen.   
“Well, that would be great,” I answer, smiling. She nods and walks towards me. She pulls me up, and she slowly takes off my jacket. Okay, I might die, but at least I tried. I yank the hook from her left hand and slice her throat open, stabbing her in the chest until I’m 100% sure she’s dead. I run outside, swinging my makeshift weapon this way and that. First thing’s first: I have to find the others, then the suitcase of doom, and then we have to get out of here.   
\------  
You’ve ever had a feeling when you have so much pain that your nerves just essentially shut down and everything goes numb? That’s what I’m basically feeling right now during the whole, let’s-shock-Patrick’s-brain-until-he-dies! thing. My head is so jumbled I can’t think straight, and when I try to move, something makes me stop. Okay. You’ve got to remember something. Right. My name is Patrick. I’m eighteen years old. I live in Los Angeles. I have a sister named Lindsey, and both of my parents probably have my name on the missing list by now, and they’re freaking out. I’m in… where even am I?   
I look around the dark room. I can just make out seats through my blurry vision, and I don’t… holy crap, I can’t remember anything that happened after I got kidnapped… what the heck is going on with my head? I struggle to remember, and then I hear static throughout the room. I can’t remember… Don’t panic. Don’t fucking panic. My name’s Patrick. I’m eighteen years old. I-I what? Oh my God. Right. I have a sister named… more static makes my head throb, and then my mind goes hazy.   
My name is Patrick. I’m eighteen years old. I am going to find Peter, Joseph, and Andy. And when I do, I’m going to kill them.  
\------  
I run through the halls, the only thing I can hear being my fast breathing and my footsteps. I pass rooms on either side of me, having no idea what’s in them. I hear footsteps behind me, and I look back just in time to see a woman running towards me, a gun in her hand. She’s impossibly fast, and then I trip, falling. She tackles me, and I jam the hook into the barrel of her gun. I get up and she grabs my ankle. I kick her in the face-sorry-and I yank out the hook and run. I open the nearest room and get inside, slamming the door shut after me. I realize I’m not alone. There’s a young man in a straitjacket, his dark skin beaded with sweat and his dark eyes wide in fear.  
“HELP ME!” he yells. I run towards him and grab his shoulders.   
“Okay, I’m going to help you. Calm down. What’s your name?” I ask him as I slice the bindings of the straitjacket apart.   
“I’m Sean. I’m sorry, I’m just really scared. There was someone else here with me, and they killed him. God, did you guys really find the Infinity Weapon?” His eyes narrow, and he gets up, stretching his arms. I nod.  
“Well, more like, Patrick found it, but you can say that,” I mutter. Sean glances at me.   
“I’m going to try to find the weapon. You go find your friends, okay?” I steel myself and say yes. We both run outside, and go opposite ways. I’ll never see him again. I run, slip on the tiles, and slide across a door. I hear static noise inside, and I shrug. I open the double doors and I find myself in a sort of like a speaking hall, and at the center of the place is Patrick, tied to a chair and with electrodes poking out of his head.   
“Holy… Patrick!” I manage, and I run towards him. Halfway there, however, I notice something’s wrong. Patrick isn’t moving, and his head is cocked to one side, and his eyes… my God. His eyes are brilliant yellow instead of their natural blue color. “Can you hear me?” I walk towards him, and try to deactivate the machines the electrodes are connected to, when Patrick’s eyes narrow and he starts to try to yank me from where I’m standing. “Hey… Patrick, it’s me! Calm down!”   
“Calm down?” Patrick’s voice is laced with anger and hate. “You’re a traitor.” I blink and shake my head.  
“I’m your best friend, Patrick,” I mutter. I hold the hook in my left hand, and try to take off one of the electrodes from his head.   
“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Patrick screams, his voice breaking at the end. I grab his left wrist, and my hand comes back covered in blood. My eyes widen in horror as I realize that someone cut off his hand. I look at the hook prosthesis in my hand, and I come up with a last minute idea.  
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and then I stick the hook prosthesis into his wrist, and the end slices into his stump of his left arm. Patrick screams in agony, and I flinch. I hear footsteps, and I spin around just as something hits me in the side of the neck. My first thought is, Really? Who the hell uses blowguns anymore? My next thought? Oh shit, I’m going to die. I feel my knees give out, and then I hit the ground and my vision goes black.


	5. Big Boy the Arsonist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting to the fun part. Bear with me, and any constructive criticism is appreciated. I'll try to update periodically(I just posted these chapters because I had written them a few months ago)

I hide in the first room of the hallway I can find, and find myself in the lobby of a building. I crouch in the darkness, my eyes narrowing. Agents walk past, and I hear footsteps.   
“HEY! EVERYONE! STOP MOVING AND LISTEN UP,” Courtney stands in the middle of the lobby, her arms crossed. The agents glance at her, and she looks around, smirking. “You think you’re all so special. But you have to step up your game, because a prisoner has escaped. And the Director is coming today.” Confused whispers arise, and my blood runs cold.   
“But first we have to get rid of the other prisoners,” someone says. I look to see who’s speaking. There’s a teenage girl looking directly at Courtney. She’s about Pete’s age, eighteen or nineteen, and she has her brown hair at her sides, and her eyes are brown, unlike the other agents’ eyes, which are yellow.   
“Yes, thank you for that irrelevant comment, Rachael,” Courtney snaps. Rachael shrugs. I clench my fists. “So I expect you to find the prisoner, and kill him.” Everyone walks away, leaving the lobby with three agents holding assault rifles in their hands. Okay. I have to find another way to get out of here. I run back into the hallway I was in, and I sprint into another room. I find myself in an armory, filled with weapons. I look around, just in case the Infinity Weapon is in here, but there’s nothing except guns. I grab a handgun and I run outside. An agent spins around, and he starts to raise his gun… I raise my own gun and shoot him in the stomach. He stumbles and I run towards a door marked ‘exit.’  
“OVER HERE!” someone yells, and I hear gunshots. I slam the door shut behind me, run across the street, and leap over the bushes, lying there and breathing heavily. I hear footsteps and muffled shouts, and I look over the edge of the bushes just in time to see four people getting put into a black van. Two agents get in the front and shotgun seat, and they drive off. I manage to see the license plate:6r7-y9e, and I stand up and follow them.   
They stop in a clearing at a park. The two agents walk through the trees and I see someone else. There’s a man standing in front of a bonfire, and he’s talking with the agents. His skin is darker than mine and he has dreadlocks that go down to his waist. He has a box of matches in one hand. Are they going to burn them? I hear laughter, and then the man lights a match and cocks his head, smiling cruelly. I notice that the bonfire wood is slick with gasoline.   
He drops the match into the wood.  
It catches fire pretty quickly, and the bonfire casts shadows throughout the darkness. I take out my iPhone, my hands shaking. Please let me have wifi, please… I manage a slight connection, and I almost scream as I punch in numbers. 9-1-1.  
“911, what’s your emergency?” the speaker asks me.   
“Please don’t get off the phone,” I gasp. “My name is Sean. I’ve been kidnapped by people for two years. These people are lighting a bonfire, I followed them. And I think they’re going to kill four people. God knows how many people they’ve killed. Please, you’ve got to help me!”   
“Okay. Do-have-plate-sir? Are you still there?” and then the call ends. I sigh and look up. The bonfire’s still burning, but now there’s things burning in the fire. I’m too far away to see, but I think they’re instruments. What the heck? I creep closer, and then I hear footsteps. Oh no. I hide behind a tree and wait for the evil people to pass.   
\-------  
Life is miserable inside this black van. It smells like feet, sweat, and rotten eggs. I try to take the blindfold off my eyes but I kind of can’t because my hands are tied behind my back. I can hear other people trying to get free of their bonds, and I feel something rip through my pant leg and pain shoots through my leg. I gasp.  
“Andy? Is that you?” I hear a familiar voice asks.   
“Holy… hey, Patrick,” I mutter. I hear noises, and I feel the ropes around my hands come off.   
“Stay still, Pete. Jeez,” I hear Patrick say, and I take off my blindfold and blink at the dim light inside the car. Patrick’s cutting off Joe’s makeshift handcuffs, and I blink as I realize that Patrick’s left hand is a hook. Wait, what? Everyone takes off their blindfolds, and we all look at each other.   
“So what now? Did you guys check the door to see if we can get out?” Joe asks us. I crawl over to the door and see if I can get it open. It’s locked from the outside. I shake my head.   
“This sucks,” Patrick mutters, throwing up his hands(well, throwing up his right hand and his left hook prosthesis.) “I’m sorry, guys.” He hangs his head.  
“Sorry for what?” I ask him.  
“If I hadn’t found that suitcase, then we wouldn’t have gotten kidnapped and tortured,” he mutters. I shudder, thinking about the horrible noises in the room I was in.   
“It’s not your fault, ‘Trick,” Pete mutters. “I’m pretty sure they would have found us anyways.” Joe shrugs.   
“But this all has to do with the stupid suitcase, and the fact that people we don’t even know want us to be some sort of defenders of it,” he mutters.   
“They want us to be defenders? Awesome. At least they know we’ll go down swinging,” Pete answers.   
“But what if we can’t be defenders?” Patrick asks him. “I didn’t have that suitcase for five minutes and those people drugged me and cut off my hand to take it from me.”   
“But at least you tried,” I say.   
“No, you don’t get it. You don’t know what they did to me, what they did to all of us. After this is all over, this is still going to have a psychological mark on us. And not in a good way,” Andy snaps.   
“Could you guys stop arguing? You’re giving me a headache and we need to stick together if we’re going to stop them,” I say. Patrick nods, and then he freezes. His eyes widen.   
“Is it just me, or do you guys smell smoke?” he asks slowly. I smell something burning, and when I touch the side of the van, it burns my hand. I gasp and yank my hand back.  
“Oh God,” Joe whispers as it clicks in my mind.   
The van. They’re burning the van.


	6. Never Mess With Children(Especially Children With Guns and Knives)

The smoke fills the car and I cover my mouth and nose with my good hand. Joe starts coughing, his asthma kicking in as he smells the smoke.   
“We have to get out!” Andy yells, and he kicks at the door. I raise my hook hand and slice the metal of the door, a horrible screech filling the air. I wince, and I try to slice the lock off. On the third try, it snaps off, and Pete kicks open the door. We get out of the van, helping Joe hobble out, and my knees give out.   
“Oh, it’s you again,” says a voice. I look up, and I cough. It’s the boy that asked me if I had seen his soccer ball. Except this time, instead of looking all friendly and innocent, his eyes are narrowed and he has something big behind his back. My mind starts conjuring images of assault rifles and grenades and knives, and I manage to get up shakily. Once I’m up, I realize the boy isn’t alone.   
“Are you kidding me?” Pete whispers, while Joe keeps coughing. He manages to get his inhaler(miraculously, they didn’t take it away from him) and he breathes in deeply. There are six other children(excluding the soccer boy) and each of them are holding weapons, ranging from homemade bats with spikes at the end to full blown guns. Their eyes are all yellow.   
“Um, Patrick?” Andy starts. Joe coughs again. I glance at my friends and raise my hook hand in front of me.   
“Yeah?” I ask him.  
“Those kids are fucking savage,” Joe gasps out before taking another breath into his inhaler. I nod. The soccer boy walks towards us.   
“You guys have until the count of ten to run. Then, we’ll follow you and kill you,” he says.   
“Until the count of ten, Logan? I want to make this interesting,” a girl says, smiling. I take a step back, and Logan, the soccer boy, takes out his weapon from behind his back. I blink. It’s a radio. What the hell?   
“One.” Logan takes a step forward. Joe coughs. Andy’s eyes widen. “Two.” I spin around to see my friends.   
“Split up. They’ve got to split up too, and run towards the highway,” I say.  
“Three.” Logan smiles. “Four.”  
“But what if we can’t find the highway?” Joe coughs, gasping out the words like a dying fish.  
“Five,” Logan states. “Six.”   
“Then keep running,” Andy mutters, “and don’t look back.”  
“Seven, eight, nine,” he starts.   
He says ‘ten’ just as I scream, “RUN!” We take off running, and I hear kids yelling behind me. I stumble into the forest, and I hear footsteps crashing through the leaves. I sprint towards the general direction of the highway, and I duck behind a large oak tree just as Logan sprints past me. He looks around, his eyes narrowing. Once he’s out of sight, I creep out behind the tree, looking around. Okay, now what? Just in case there’s still more maniac children around, I run towards the highway. Hearing shouts, I stop running and see three people run past the spot where I’m standing.   
I find myself in a clearing after running for a few minutes, and stop to catch my breath, putting my hands(well, hand and prosthetic hook hand) on my knees. I am in a forest and there are people trying to kill me. It sounds like a horror movie. I walk towards the other end of the clearing and I can hear the noises of cars rushing past. I start to run,and the I hear someone clear their throat behind me.   
“Don’t move,” Logan snaps. I spin around, raising my hook hand like a weapon. He’s still carrying the radio, Jeez, why are you lugging that thing around? and his eyes narrow.   
“What do you want?” I ask. I’m honestly so done with everything right now. Logan cocks his head.   
“It’s just you and me here,” he mutters. “All your friends are dead.”  
“Uh huh, and then who did I just see a minute ago running past me?” I ask again. Logan shrugs.   
“I’m going to kill you, you know that, right?” he states. I glare at him.   
“Try me. I dare you,” I mutter, my voice breaking. Logan smiles, and he looks at the radio. I start to back away slowly towards the tree line. Logan’s eyes narrow, and I spin and run. I don’t take two steps before I hear the same static noise I heard in that room when they were electrocuting me. And suddenly unbearable pain shoots through my head. I stumble and my mind goes hazy. My legs stop moving and I can’t walk… what the hell is going on? I feel myself turning around, even though I’m trying not to, even though I’m trying to run for my life I walk towards Logan. The boy smiles.   
“Oh wow. It actually worked,” he says, appalled. Screw you, I think. What did you do to me? But in real life, I don’t say a word. I just stand there, staring at Logan. “Come here.” Even though I tell myself not to go towards him, to GET AWAY AS FAST AS POSSIBLE, my legs have other plans. I walk numbly towards him. I see someone behind Logan, and I want to yell, HEY! I NEED HELP! But I can’t. The person runs toward Logan, and the boy spins around. “Holy… KILL HIM!” just as the man snaps Logan’s neck. He falls to the ground, and for a second I’m looking at the person who saved my life. Kill him. Logan told me to kill him.   
“Holy… hey, man, don’t kill me. Get away,” the man says, but I start to walk towards him, my fist clenching and I raise my hook hand. “Oh my God, stop!” Logan told me to kill him. My vision goes red, and I stride towards him. The man grabs the radio and manages to raise it so that he blocks my strike with my hand. I slice his arm and he grabs my left wrist. I kick him in the stomach and he stumbles backwards, letting go of me.   
“I’m going to kill you!” I yell, and I raise my hook.   
\-------  
Children can be vicious. Especially when they’re trying to kill me. I have two children on my trail, and plus my asthma, I can barely run, coughing and sputtering.   
“Come on!” A little girl that’s only six yells. “We only want to play with you!” She’s holding a knife. I run faster, even though my legs are burning. Oh crap… I’M GOING TO DIE! I’m so scared that I don’t see the tree until I hit it face first. I look up and then I see there’s a branch right over my head. I haven’t climbed a tree since I was in third grade, but I’ve never had killer kids chasing me. I grab the branch and pull myself up just as the little girl slices the edge of my shoe. I get on the branch, my hands shaking. I get into a coughing fit, and I almost fall off.   
“Come on! Really?” A boy asks, looking up at me. He has a baseball bat in his hand.   
“Yeah, really! I don’t want to die,” I snap. The girl pouts. I hear footsteps, and I see a person run past us.   
“Over here!” I hear someone scream, and the two kids run towards the voice. I get down, when someone tackles me, and pain sears through my leg. I scream and kick blindly. I hear a thump, and then footsteps fade. I get up, but then my left leg gives out and I fall forward. I look back, and there’s a large dark stain on my lower pant leg. Someone stabbed me in the leg. Fuck. I get up and limp through the dark forest, not knowing where I’m going or what I’m doing. I sit down under a tree and put my head against the trunk.  
“Oh my God,” I whisper. What has the effing world come to?  
\-------  
My head is pounding and my arm is hurting like hell from the stab wound I have. I back away, the radio in one hand, and I almost fall twice. Patrick keeps walking towards me, his eyes filled with hatred. My heart beats faster as I realize they’re yellow, like the agents’ eyes.   
“Holy shit, Patrick, snap out of it!” I yell. The static keeps on playing, and then I trip and fall. The radio lands next to me. Patrick raises his hook hand, his expression murderous. I hit pause on the radio, because the static is getting kind of annoying. Patrick stops and lowers his hand, his expression changing to one of confusion. His eyes turn to blue.   
“W-What…?” he starts. I get up and run towards him.   
“You have to get out of here. The highway’s that way,” I say, pointing. Patrick nods.   
“Wait. Who are you?” he asks me.  
“I’m Sean,” I mutter.   
“Thank you,” Patrick says. I grab the radio and look at what’s playing. It’s nothing, just radio wave playback. He turns and runs. I drop the radio and sprint towards the trees. I almost make it. Something hits my back, and I feel myself falling as the worst pain I’ve ever felt goes through me. I manage to see that I have a wound in my chest, and I realize I’ve been shot. I just got shot in the chest. I hear footsteps and laughs.   
“Now who do we have here?” asks a voice. I can’t move, because if I move the pain will knock me unconscious. And agent looks at me. It’s a man, and there’s a woman next to him.   
“He’s still alive,” the man states. The woman kneels down and meets my eyes. They’re glowing gold, and she has a gun in her hand.   
“Sean, if you surrender now, I might let you live, take you to Linda Vista, and tell Courtney that you’re one of her loyal prisoners. If not, I’ll shoot you in the head,” she whispers, smiling.   
“I…” I start. “Tell her… I’m never going to be… one of your… stupid brainwashed… agents, and tell her to… go fuck herself.” The woman smiles.   
“Of course,”she answers warmly. “And while we’re at it…” she raises her gun and shoots. Pain sears through my head. “Good night, Sean.”


	7. Thanks For The Memories. I Didn't Want Them.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Rachael(aka Foxes character in the video, but I changed it a little bit, so now she's my very own original character). So she's kind of a good person, but she's one of Courtney's brainwashed soldiers(btw, I don't like the whole Patrick-is-being-possessed-by-something idea, so I made my own theory.)Enjoy!

I walk through the forest, stumbling and almost falling into a creek once. My mind is trying to go over the events that just happened, but there’s a big blank in my brain, from the time that Logan turned on the static to when I was confronted by Sean. I collapse under a tree, and I close my eyes. I almost killed someone. Oh God, What am I becoming? I drift off to sleep.   
‘You want to know something else, Patrick?’ He glanced at the woman, his mind hazy and his eyes gold. ‘You’re going to be one of our greatest assets.’ Patrick didn’t respond, because he wasn’t supposed to respond. The woman sat down next to him, and she smiled, interlacing her fingers with his. He didn’t move. He was like her puppet, and she stood up and paced in front of him. He cocked his head, faintly aware that there was something uncomfortable pressing into his temples. She turned and took out a gun. ‘Stay still.’ He couldn’t move, even though his mind was screaming at him to run… she pulled the trigger…  
I sit up, looking around. It’s morning and sunlight pierces through the canopy of the trees. I get up and then I hear cars. Cars. I run as fast as I can towards… HIGHWAY!  
“IN YOUR FACE STUPID FREAKS! I’M IN CIVILIZATION!” I pump my fist into the air. Now what? I’m standing at the edge of the highway, and people would think I’d be out of a horror movie. I have cuts all over my face, my blond hair is stuck up in every single direction, I have dark circles under my eyes, my skin and clothes are caked in blood and dirt, and my left hand is a hook prosthetic. I raise my good hand as cars pass by, hiding my hook hand behind my back. Cars pass me, and I lower my hand. This is hopeless. I see a truck at the corner of my eye, and I raise my hand.  
“HEY!” I yell until my voice is raw. Incredibly, the car slows to a stop and the shotgun door pops open.   
“Need a ride?” asks a female voice. I stand there, staring at her.   
“Yeah. Yeah I do,” I answer, and I get in the shotgun seat. I close the door, and I hear the girl gasp.  
“What happened to your hand?” she asks me.   
“Oh, I just got it cut off by a maniac psychopath that wanted to kill me,” I answer. The girl’s jaw drops. She’s young and about my age, with brown hair that goes down to her shoulders, and her big brown eyes are filled with curiosity. Her black fingernails are tapping on the steering wheel.   
“Oh my goodness,” she says. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”  
“Actually, yes,” I mutter. The girl starts driving.   
“There’s a hospital over here called Linda Vista. I’ll drive you over,” she says. I nod, and as we drive towards the hospital, I look out the window and start humming one of those songs I made up.   
“What are you singing?” the girl asks me. I shrug.   
“Something I made up. I’m Patrick,” I say.  
“Rachael,” the girl responds, and she shakes my good hand. “So, is that song good?”  
“Um, it’s just something I do in my spare time,” I mutter.   
“Can I hear it?” she asks me. I stop and glance at her.   
“Uh… are you sure?” I ask her. She nods. “Okay…”   
I thought of angels  
Choking on their halos  
Get them drunk on rose water  
See how dirty I can get them  
Pulling out their fragile teeth  
And clip their tiny wings  
Anything you say can and will be held against you  
So only say my name  
It will be held against you  
Anything you say can and will be held against you  
So only say my name  
If heaven's grief brings hell's rain  
Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday  
For just one yesterday

 

I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way

 

Still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

 

For just one yesterday

 

For just one yesterday

 

Letting people down is my thing baby  
Find yourself a new gig  
This town ain't big enough for two of us  
I don't have the right name  
Or the right looks  
But I have twice the heart  
Anything you say can and will be held against you  
So only say my name  
It will be held against you  
Anything you say can and will be held against you  
So only say my name  
If heaven's grief brings hell's rain

 

Then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

 

For just one yesterday

 

I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way

 

Still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

 

For just one yesterday

 

For just one yesterday

 

“That’s good!” Rachael says. I shrug. “If you say that that isn’t good, you’re hating on yourself. You’re a good singer.”   
“Oh, thanks,” I say.   
“No problem,” she says, and she keeps driving. A car goes past. “Hey guys!” she waves at them, and a guy waves back. I slowly relax. I’ll get to the hospital. Then I’ll call my mom, and then I’d get back home and forget this whole thing happened.  
Yeah right.   
\------  
I look over at Patrick as he looks outside of the rolled down window. I smirk. He had no idea what he’s in for. He doesn’t look like much of a ‘saving-the-world’ type person, and his right hand is clenched into a fist. He gives me a haunted glance, and I turn on the radio. The only thing that comes on are old indie songs.   
“So, was there anyone with you when you escaped?” I ask him. Patrick nods.   
“Three people: Andy, Joe, and Pete,” he mutters, his blue eyes narrow.   
“Okay… where did you see them last?” I ask. Patrick shakes his head, and the mind-control makes me flinch inwardly. It’s almost as if there’s a voice in my head screaming at me to find all of them and bring them to the rendezvous point.   
“You’re going to think I’m crazy… but the last time I saw them, we were being chased by children with guns and knives,” he answers. Oh. Logan’s gang. My jaw drops, pretending to be concerned.   
“That’s horrible, but seeing you, I can be convinced that you went through a lot. So, why did they cut off your hand?” I ask him nonchalantly.   
“I had something called the Infinity Weapon,” Patrick mumbles. I nod. His head whips around to stare at me in disbelief. “You know what that is?”   
“I’ve heard of it,” I say. “And I’ve heard that there are these people that want it so badly they’ll kill for it.”  
“The Society,” Patrick states flatly. I shrug.  
“You’re going to need a tetanus shot for that,” I mutter. Patrick throws up his hands.   
“Oh, I’m sorry! I just got kidnapped, almost got burned alive, and I almost got killed by maniac homicidal children! And now someone comes by accusing me that I didn’t get a tetanus shot. ‘Cause that was totally on my priority list,” he snaps. My eyebrows raise.   
“Okay, I wasn’t accusing you,” I mutter, and I drive in silence for a few minutes.   
“I’m going to try to call my parents,” Patrick says. “Can I borrow your phone?” I give him my iPhone 6, and he types in his house phone number. I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. Remember your purpose. You are to deliver them to the rendezvous point. I blink and shake my head. I take a deep breath, and keep driving.  
\------  
I walk through the forest numbly, my leg screaming in pain whenever I try to move it. Great, I got stabbed and now I have a broken leg! Oh joy. I keep walking(wait, no, limping) along a seemingly deserted trail through the forest. I see a clearing, and I start to run. I see a house with a woman hanging some clothes on a line, like they did in the old days.   
“Hey! Ms. Lady!” I stagger towards her. Her eyes widen in pure horror. Well, I probably look like a zombie from The Walking Dead.   
“GET AWAY!” she gasps. I raise my hands, and I glance at the sheets she’s hanging.   
“Sorry,” I start, and then I rip part of the sheet off. The woman screams and runs. I wrap the part of the sheet in a makeshift bandage around my bleeding leg, and I pull it tight so that I don’t bleed out. I start to walk aimlessly through the forest, closing my eyes and trying to think of what the hell made the world so messed up that children would try to kill four people just because of something in a suitcase. Through the trees, I can just make out the cars passing by on the highway. Well, first things first. Joe, today you will become a hitchhiker.   
\------  
When I get to the highway, I almost get run over by a few cars who think that seeing a Pete pancake would be funny. I run across the street into the parking lot of a theater. I walk towards it, when I see a little girl and her mom, striding quickly towards a car. There are a few cars around here, but 1) I have no idea how to open a car without the keys, and 2) Even if I could, I don’t know how to jack a car.   
The woman sees me, and she whispers something to the girl. I stumble and almost fall. I probably look like a cross between Jason from Friday the thirteenth and a drunk homeless guy.   
“Hey, wait!” I walk towards them. The woman gets into the car, and so does the little girl. I run towards them. “I’m not going to hurt you guys! I need your help!” I slam my hand on the door. The window rolls down. Oh my God, thank you so… and then pepper spray hits me in the face. I scream, stumbling back and trying to protect my eyes. BOI! I run back towards the highway. Okay. That was a bad idea. Never do that again. I’ve learned my lesson. That hurts like shit. I end up standing on the edge of the highway, raising my hand and feeling like an idiot. Oh well. I lower my hand and start walking.   
\------  
I’m so lost in thought that when I see the person on the side of the road, I almost look away because that person covered in blood that looks like a zombie isn’t going to ruin my day… wait. Rachael glances at the zombie man, and I yell at her to stop.   
“You’re joking, right? Stop in the middle of I-90?” she asks me in stunned unbelief.   
“That’s my friend,” I manage, staring at the person at the side of the road, who is either a zombie version of Joe or actually Joe. Rachael’s eyes narrow.   
“He looks like a serial killer,” she mutters. I almost laugh. “He looks like he almost got killed by a serial killer. Okay, he’s not a serial killer. Jeez, you guys do realize that dried blood is really hard to take off of clothes, right?” I nod, and the car slows. Joe runs towards us, his eyes wide like he’s seen the face of God.   
“OH MY JESUS CHRIST YOU’RE ALIVE! YOU’RE OKAY! OH MY GOD, WE’RE GOING TO SURVIVE THIS!” he looks over at Rachael. “Who’s the girl?”   
“I’m Rachael, and this morning I was driving towards my house when I decided to pick up a random hitchhiker at the side of the road, which turns out to be your friend. Get in the truck, I don’t have any more room inside,” Rachael states flatly. Joe climbs onto the back of the truck. “I swear, Patrick, if the rest of your friends are over here, I will make them walk to Linda Vista.”   
“You’re nice,” Joe calls. I sigh and Rachael starts driving again. “So do you have any food? I haven’t eaten in two days and I feel like I could eat a dead cockroach.”   
“That’s disgusting,” I mutter, but I glance at Rachael. She shakes her head.   
“Sorry, guys,I kind of wasn’t planning to have survivors of the Children’s Apocalypse ride in my car today, so…” Rachael trails off.   
“You effing told her? What if she’s one of them?” Joe yells at me. Rachael frowns.  
“She’s not,” I reply. “If she were she’d already have-” I cut myself off.   
“She’d already done what?” Joe snaps. I don’t answer, thinking about Logan, the radio, Sean, and a big blank in my mind that I still can’t remember about.   
“Nothing,” I mumble.   
“Hey, guys, is that just me or is that another hitchhiker? Jeez, this is so weird,” Rachael mutters. I look up. Rachael stops the car just as the person steps out into the street. “Do you want me to run you over?” The person walks towards us, and I realize that it’s another one of my friends: Pete. This seems suspicious… but thank God, we might just get out of this alive.   
\------  
First things first: Never take a homeless person’s food. I walk alongside the street and that’s when I see a sleeping homeless dude lying underneath a bridge, and a can of beans is next to him. Now, I usually don’t steal stuff, but this is life and death to me, and I NEED FOOD!! I creep towards the man, and then… I try to grab the can but fail miserably.   
“HEY!! DON’T YOU DARE STEAL MY FOOD MAN I WENT THROUGH A LOT TO GET THIS!!” The man screams and he pushes me backwards.   
“I-I’m sorry, I was-I’m really hungry, can we share?” I manage.   
“NO, MAN! I DON’T WANT YOU TO HAVE THIS FOOD!” he yells. I raise my hands.   
“Please,” I whisper hoarsely. “I don’t want to die.” The homeless man shakes his head, stroking his long beard.   
“Well too bad. Find more food,” the guy mutters. I turn and walk away, but not before giving him the finger. When I see the first car on the highway, it almost runs me over. I jump backwards and people yell at me, jeering. Screw them, I think and walk past the highway. I almost keep walking towards the city when I hear someone yell,   
“Hey, Andy!” I spin around. There’s a red truck parked at the side of the road, and I see a familiar person waving at me.   
“Joe?” I run towards the truck. There’s a girl driving the truck, and next to her in the shotgun seat is Patrick. Pete and Joe are in the back of the truck.   
“Hey guys,” I say, tired from running.   
“Come on, we’re going to the hospital,” Patrick says, and I climb onto the back.   
“You guys better be paying me for this,” the girl tell us jokingly.   
“Sure… how about zero bucks?” Pete asks. We all laugh, and the girl starts driving again. “We’ll pay you when we have money, Rachael.”   
“Uh huh,” she mutters, and we get off the highway, and we drive past a sign that says, ‘hospital.’ Rachael turns into the parking lot of Linda Vista hospital, and I can see dozens of cars parked there. I start to laugh.   
“We made it, guys!” Pete says, and Joe gets up, wincing. He has a bloody bandage on his leg. Patrick looks back at us through the window.   
“Come on Rachael, Joe and Patrick are bleeding out,” I mutter. Rachael takes out her phone and types something in. Patrick and her get out of the car, and we walk towards the hospital. Rachael raises her phone to her ear, and she starts talking. I hear a weird static noise, and Pete’s eyes widen in horror. Patrick turns around.  
“What the…” and then he stumbles back like he’s been punched in the gut. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. I back away.   
“Run. Now,” Pete whispers. Rachael lowers her phone and looks at Patrick, confused.   
“Oh. I’m sorry, guys,” she mumbles. Patrick glances at us, and my eyes widen. His eyes are yellow. Jesus… “Kill them.” It takes me a split second for this to click in my mind: 1)Rachael has something that makes her mind-control people. 2)She mind-controlled Patrick. 3) She told Patrick to kill us. Oh my God. I take off running as fast as I can. Not this again. Come on! Pete and Joe are right behind me as we open the hospital doors. Behind us, Patrick starts to run towards us.   
“GO!” I yell, and we run into the hospital of doom with a brainwashed maniac chasing after us.


	8. I Jam Out With Zombies At A Hospital

Apart from the whole being-mind-controlled-and-being-a-killer thing, I would rate my experience at the hospital to be 11/10. Inside the hospital, I don’t see any of my friends(No, wait, they’re not my friends.) There’s a receptionist sitting behind a desk, and she glances at me blankly.   
“Hello, sir. How may I help you?” she asks me in a monotone. Her eyes are yellow like mine.   
“Did you see anyone come in here?” I ask her. The woman stands up.   
“Follow me.”   
\------  
When you’re being chased by your friend(who just happens to be mind-controlled and obeying an order to kill) you have no idea how fast you can run.   
“Get down! Over here!” I can hear Pete’s shouts through the hallways. After we got inside the hospital, we decided to split up, and now I’m sprinting through the halls. There’s no one here that I can see, and I open a room. Inside is a gurney, and an x-ray machine. I close the door and drag the gurney over to the door so that no one can get in. I run towards the cabinets and throw them open.  
“WHERE ARE YOU?” I hear a person scream, the voice echoing throughout the hospital. A chill runs down my spine, realizing it’s Patrick. I find alcohol and a few bandages. I grit my teeth and rub some alcohol on the wound on my leg. The pain threatens to make me unconscious, and then I wrap a new bandage on my leg. I look around. There’s another door next to me, and I run and try to open it. It’s locked.   
“Shit,” I mutter, and I walk over to the door, peering outside through the window. I hear footsteps, and then someone yells. Jesus Christ what the heck is going on??? There’s nothing else here in the room, and I just slide to the ground next to the gurney. I bury my head in my hands and let out a small scream.   
\-----  
As I wander through the halls, it strikes me that this hospital is just another trap. There’s no patients here, even though this place looks brand new and ready to help people. Sure… help people… that’s funny. I open one of the doors, raising my hook hand. There’s no one here. Cursing, I spin around, and my eyes fall on the room at the end of the hallway. The receptionist glances at me.   
“There’s someone in there, isn’t there?” I ask. The woman doesn’t say a word. She’s like a zombie, barely able to move on her own accord. “Is there someone in there?” She doesn’t respond. “Oh, screw it, let’s move.” I stride towards the door, and I slowly grasp the doorknob with my good hand, my prosthetic hook hand poised to strike. I open the door and stumble into the most bizarre event I’ve ever seen in my life.   
In the room, there are about a dozen people, all as zombie-like as the woman behind me. Some of them have on hospital gowns and others look like they’ve just gotten out of bed, and there is an effing disco ball on the ceiling. They stop partying and stare at me.   
“What…?” One of the zombie people, a young boy, shuffles towards me. “Have you guys seen people over here that, you know, aren’t like zombies?” The boy cocks his head. Then I hear someone yell. I spin around just as someone runs past the room. My eyes narrow. He’s one of them. I take off running, twice almost slamming into empty gurneys in the hallways. I turn a corner, and there’s no one there. But… he can’t escape. I open all the doors of the corridor, but there’s no one in there. Damn it. I turn around and keep walking.   
\-----  
I slam the door shut, my hands shaking as I lock it. I only managed to escape from Patrick because I hid underneath one of the gurneys. I turn in a full circle, and my eyes land on a phone. Phone. A phone. I honestly fall to my knees, clasping my hands and silently thanking God. I grab the phone and call 911.   
“911, what’s your emergency?” a man asks me. I take a deep breath.   
“My emergency is that I’m in an abandoned hospital, one of my best friends has been brainwashed to kill me, and I’m with here with two others,” I manage to get out. I can barely hold the phone with my shaking hands. Calm down, Pete, you’re having a panic attack.   
“Okay, do you have an address for the hospital you’re in?” the man asks me.   
“It’s called Linda Vista Hospital,” I whisper. There’s a long pause.   
“Alright, mister, stay there and stay calm, the police and the paramedics are on their way. Are your friends with you?” the man asks. I take a shuddering breath as I hear a scream.   
“No, we got split up,” I answer quietly. I hear pounding footsteps and a person yells, “Jesus, no no no no…”   
“Do you have any injuries, sir?” the man asks.   
“I-I don’t have any, unless you count a whole lot of cuts and dried blood from people that tried to attack us. But my friends…” I trail off.   
“Okay, you said something about someone being… brainwashed?” the operator asks me. “The police are fifteen minutes away.”   
“Y-Yeah, they did something to my friend… I don’t know what, but now he’s trying to kill us,” I mutter. “And they cut off his hand, and they kidnapped us, and…” the man cuts me off.   
“Who’s ‘they?’” I shake my head.   
“I don’t know, they’re these people trying to kill me, they said something about a society?” I shudder.   
“I don’t know, but you’re now a witness to this, and you can help us find the perpetrators,” the operator says. I nod. I can deal with that. What could be the worse that would happen?  
\------  
I keep on running as fast as I can, aware of footsteps behind me. I push my legs as fast as they can go, my feet slapping on the tile. I trip and fall, hitting the ground. I get up and grab one of those IV roller things, wielding it like a staff. Patrick stops running, his yellow eyes murderous. Oh God.   
“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” he asks me, sneering. I’m terrified. Last time I checked, Patrick wouldn’t hurt a fly. But know he’s walking towards me like he wants to kill me. I wipe one of my sweaty hands on my jeans, and I raise the pole even higher.   
“Don’t… Patrick, snap out of it, this isn’t… calm down! Don’t kill me!” Eat a snickers, you're not you when you’re hungry, I think randomly.   
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” he snaps.   
“Um, I’m one of your effing friends!” I yell, backing away. Patrick raises his hook hand.   
“You’re not my friend,” he hisses, and I lower the pole. Hearing a creak, Patrick spins around. I see Joe peeking out of one of the rooms, and the blood drains from his face when he sees Patrick. Patrick glances at me, then at him. Joe slams the door shut, and Patrick walks towards the room. I stay there, frozen. Andy, effing RUN! My brain screams at me, and finally my feet respond.   
I run like there’s no tomorrow.   
\-----  
As soon as I look outside, my mind screams, bad idea! Then I see Patrick turn around. Oh no. His eyes narrow and I slam the door shut, but I don’t have time to put the gurney in front of the door. I open one of the bottom cabinets and get inside. It’s barely big enough for me, and I slam the small door shut just as the door to the room opens. My breath leaves me as I hear footsteps, getting closer… I hear doors open and close. God, he’s checking the cabinets.   
I’m dead.   
The door next to me slams open and then closes, and I make myself as small as possible, when the door to the cabinet in which I’m hiding opens, and bright light streams through. I make a wild decision and kick Patrick in the groin. He stumbles and I push him back, getting out of the cabinet and sprinting to the opposite side of the room. Patrick walks towards me, and I back away against the wall.   
“Don’t kill me, I’m your friend,” I say, but Patrick doesn’t listen. I hear footsteps and as a last resort, I grab a cable from the floor.   
Very bad idea.  
Patrick tackles me, slamming me to the ground, I grab his left wrist and keep him from moving it, and we struggle as I try to get the cable around his neck. I don’t want to kill him, just to knock him out until someone comes and finds us.  
By then, we’ll probably all be dead.   
Patrick pushes me off of him, and he grabs the cable from the floor. His eyes lock on mine, and a chill runs down my spine.   
“Oh no. No no no no no no no no…” I try to open the door but it’s locked from the outside. SHIT! I back away, and then Patrick grabs me and pins me to the gurney, squeezing my neck in a choke hold. I can’t breathe, and my head spins. The only thing I can hear is my labored breathing. “Let… stop it… can’t… breathe…” spots dance in my vision and I feel myself going limp…  
I stop struggling just as my heart stops beating.   
\------  
I let go of Joe’s dead body and take a step back. I’m filled with anger and my hand can’t stop shaking. My mind is still hazy and then the door opens. I spin around, raising my hook hand. Andy and Pete walk inside.  
“Woah… Jesus! Patrick, what…” Pete trails off. His eyes widen in horror. “What did you do?” I turn around and look at Joe’s dead body… and my mind clears. I can’t breathe, staring at Joe’s wide unseeing eyes, his neck purple with blood loss. I back away, and my head spins.  
“Oh God,” I whisper, and I put my head in my hands just as what I did sinks in. I killed him. I killed Joe. I killed him. Oh my God. I killed him! I can’t… oh God. I turn away so I don’t have to see my friends… they can’t be my friends any more if I killed Joe.   
“Patrick…” Andy starts.   
“Don’t talk to me,” I whisper. “I killed him. I fucking KILLED HIM!” I close my eyes. I hear someone walking towards me.   
“Listen, that wasn’t you. Those stupid freaks made you do it,” Pete says.   
“But in the end, I still killed him,” I whisper. In the distance, I hear sirens wailing, and then I hear voices. My eyes snap open and I spin around. Pete and Andy’s eyes are wide. I hear heavy footsteps, and then the door is slamming open and SWAT team members are suddenly in the room, pointing guns at us and shouting at us to keep our hands up.   
“What’s going on?” I whisper.   
“I called the cops,” Pete answers. A chill runs down my spine. A police officer walks over to Joe’s body.   
“Who’s this?” he asks us.   
“J-Joe…” I trail off. The man takes out a small device and there’s a beep as it scans Joe’s body. He taps something on the device and turns to me.   
“Patrick Stump, you’re under arrest for the murder of Joe Trohman,” he says.


	9. My Name Is On the FBI's Most Wanted List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the probably the longest chapter in the entire fanfic. AND THERE IS A PLOT TWIST IN THIS! probably didn't see THAT coming...

“First name?” the woman’s voice is harsh and cold.   
“Patrick,” I mumble. Someone hands me a sign that says ‘Los Angeles Correctional Facility: 87394.’  
“Okay, turn to the right. Last name?” she asks me.   
“Stump,” I answer. I turn to the right and the camera flashes.   
“Turn to the left. How old are you?” the woman types something on her iPad.  
“Eighteen,” I say. I turn to the left and the camera takes a picture again. I try to balance the sign on my hook hand and it falls to the ground. “Sorry.” I pick up the sign and hold it in my good hand.   
“Okay, turn in front and look at the camera,” the officer says. I look at the camera, bored. “Okay, good. Come here, Stump.” I flinch but follow her. There’s a man sitting at a table.  
“Fingerprints,” he snaps. I put my fingers of my good hand on the scanner, and there’s a beep. “Other hand.” I look down at my hook hand.  
“Um… I don’t have my other hand,” I say to him. The man shrugs.   
“We still have to record your wrist print… can I say that?” he glances at the woman. She shrugs.   
“Just get the hook off him, Agent Jones,” the woman snaps. I back away.   
“Woah, woah, woah, what? Do you realize that this thing is stuck in my skin?” I ask her. She shrugs.   
“We’ll take you to the infirmary,” Agent Jones mutters. “Come on, inmate.” The woman grabs my handcuffs and leads me into another room. A nurse looks at me.  
“What do you need?” she asks us.   
“We need to get his prints, and he has a prosthetic hook hand,” Agent Jones snaps. The nurse nods.   
“Sit,” she commands, pointing at a gurney. I sit down, and she prepares a needle. I swing my legs back and forth, and look at my left hook hand. Sighing deeply, I close my eyes. The nurse comes back and I look up.  
“Let me see your wrist,” she tells me. I extend my arm, and she injects me with anesthetic. Soon my arm is completely numb. Working with a scalpel, the nurse takes off my hook hand. Under it is my stump, completely bloody and raw. There’s a gaping wound where my prosthetic connected with my skin. The nurse flinches.   
“Is it infected?” I ask her. She nods once. I groan. She rubs some antibacterial thing that stings like hell onto my skin, and my eyes water in pain. She cleans off the blood and I stare at the thing that used to connect to my left hand. “Jeez, that’s gruesome.”   
“Well, all amputations that aren’t medically related are pretty gruesome,” the woman answers. She starts stitching the wound on my stump and glances up at me. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”   
“I have,” I mumble. “Over a dozen people have tried to kill me in the past three days.”  
“And then you killed someone,” the nurse mutters. “Was he trying to kill you too?”   
“Um… no. I don’t know how, and I’m pretty sure this sounds crazy, but some people mind-controlled me to kill him,” I mutter. “He’s actually one of my friends.”  
“Was,” the nurse says, and she finishes with the stitches.   
“Thanks for reminding me,” I whisper. The nurse bandages the stump of my hand and looks at me.   
“There. You’re gonna have to wash off all that blood,” she mutters. I nod once. “It’s going to sting but it’s better than someone ripping out the prosthesis without anesthetic.” I take a deep breath.   
“Or getting it put into your skin without anesthetic,” I mutter. The nurse nods.   
“Agent Jones!” The agent peeks into the room. “We’re done here. Take him to his cell.” The officer handcuffs me again and we both walk through hallways. There are steel doors on either side.   
“So here’s the deal. Don’t piss anyone off, and you’ll be fine,” he snaps.   
“That’s some good advice,” I mutter.   
“Don’t be a smart-ass, Stump,” he says. “Now, you’re going to take a shower, cause you’re filthy. And then you’re going to your cell. You will not argue, you will not do anything if you don’t want to go to the solitary, and you will not complain about anything. If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime.” I flinch. That was SO cliched. He opens a door, identical to the ones I’ve passed.   
“So now what?” I ask him, turning around as he takes off my handcuffs.   
“Now, you get to enjoy this place for the rest of your life,” Agent Jones replies and he slams the door shut. I sigh and turn around.   
And I slam into a wall of meat.   
Wait, not meat, a person. He’s at least twice as tall as I am, with dreadlocks, tattoos everywhere, and he is extremely fat. His mouth cracks into a wide grin.  
“Eyy, what up, man?” he asks me with a thick russian accent.   
“Um… hi?” I manage to gasp out. The man laughs.  
“I am Vladimir Viktor Ushkov,” he says loudly. “What is your name? Why are you here? Are you an assassin?”   
“Um… I’m… Patrick… I… Um… no, I’m not an assassin,” I answer slowly. Vladimir bursts out laughing, slapping his knee.   
“Ty takoy naivnyy !!” He smiles widely.   
“What…?” I start.   
“You’re so naive! How old are you?” Vladimir sits down on one of the bunks, which looks like it’s about to collapse underneath his weight.   
“Eighteen,” I mumble. Vladimir guffaws.   
“Eighteen! Ha! Well, Patrick, you have to get used to this place,” he says, switching his accent to normal American. I blink and shake my head.   
“Wait. You’re Russian,” I mutter.   
“That’s what I want the officers to think,” Vladimir says. He reaches behind both of his ears and takes off small patches that look like electrodes. His big fat form disappears and morphs into a man with brown hair, dark eyes wide behind his glasses(FREK, I STILL HAVEN’T FOUND MY GLASSES! OH JOY!) and his jumpsuit hangs off of his thin frame. “Sorry. I’m Steven Thompson, biotechnology.” My jaw drops.  
“Patrick Stump. College student,” I gasp. Steven puts the small electrodes he took off on the metal table next to his bed. He cleans his glasses, and then he takes a device that looks like a bluetooth speaker out of his mouth. His voice changes from deep baritone to normal tone.   
“You must be freaked out. Allow me to explain. These are cloaking devices, specifically designed to make it harder for you to be tracked down. It changes your voice, your appearance, even your fingerprints. When I got incarcerated here, they took the fingerprints of a Vladimir Viktor Ushkov. There’s no records of a Steven Thompson here,” Steven says.   
“Wow,” I manage. “I have a friend who’s obsessed with biotech. He would kill to get his hands on…” my breath hitches and I can’t breathe. I stumble back, my heart pounding. I was talking about Joe. Joe’s dead.   
“Are you okay?” he asks me. I nod.  
“I’m sorry, I just…” I trail off. “Why are you in here, Steven?” Steven laughs.   
“Anarchy. And treason,” he replies. My eyes widen. “The government wanted to employ me in a top secret project for genetic engineering in humans. I refused, because I don’t think it’s right for us to be able to make humans like buildings, programmed to make them do things. I revolted, and they accused me of treason. I went into hiding, making the cloaking device and turning into Vladimir. I still openly went around, condemning the project. They locked me in here and they started a new project-Neurochemical mind control. Then that group rebelled, except that they started a powerful organization devoted to bring everyone down: The Society. Last I heard, they were making an army of brainwashed soldiers.” My head snaps up.   
“What?” I gasp. “They’re doing what? What are they planning for this army? Tell me everything you know about them.”  
“Why are you so interested in them?” Steven asks me.   
“Because they brainwashed me,” I answer. Steven’s eyes widen.   
“Wait, stay here,” he says, and he looks underneath his bed, taking out a small object. He presses a button, and static splits the air. Blinding pain shoots through me, and I scream, covering my ears. Steven gasps. Then my mind goes hazy, and I can’t move. Steven turns off the static and I regain control of my body. Then I tackle him, slamming him to the ground and yanking the device out of his hand.  
“YOU’RE ONE OF THEM, AREN’T YOU? YOU’RE WORKING FOR THEM! I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DO THAT ONE MORE TIME…” Steven cuts me off.   
“Jesus Christ, Patrick! I was just looking to see if you were telling the truth! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. But the Society figured it out. Oh no. We’re in trouble. Electroshocks to the brain are the only way to truly torture…” he starts rambling about neurotransmitters and neurological pathways, and I get up slowly.   
“We’re going to escape, right?” I ask him. Steven stops and looks up at me.   
“What?” his voice breaks as he gets up. I stare him down.   
“We’re getting out of here. You and me. Listen, I’m not staying in this place for the rest of my life,” I say. Steven opens his mouth to answer, but then he pales. Grabbing the cloaking device, he quickly puts them on and slips the comm device into his mouth. His form morphs into Vladimir’s, and the door opens behind me. I turn around.   
“Stump. Come with me,” Agent Jones says. He handcuffs me and we both walk into another room. It’s a shower.   
“I swear to God that if you have to guard me…” Agent Jones cuts me off.   
“I’m not a gay pervert, Stump. I’ll be outside, you have three minutes.” I take as much time as I can in the shower, trying to get all of the blood off. I change into the baggy prison uniform they left for me, and I walk outside. Agent Jones handcuffs me and walks me back to my cell. Inside, Vladimir/Steven smiles at me.   
“You better get used to this, youngblood. This is only the beginning.”  
\------  
“State your names and your relation to the victim,” the man says, pacing in front of us. He’s bald and glares at both of us.   
“I’m Peter Wentz and this is Andy Hurley,” I say. The man sits down and looks at each of us in the eyes.   
“You do realize that your friend committed a murder,” he begins. “And you two are either witnesses or accomplices.” I nod slowly.   
“Uh, yeah,” I mutter.  
“The thing is that we’re not witnesses or accomplices. We didn’t see Patrick kill Joe, we just randomly walked into a room and saw Joe dead on a gurney. And accomplices? Really? He’s our friend,” Andy snaps. The man’s eyes narrow.   
“Okay, that’s all the questions we have for you. Thank you for your patience,” the man states. We get up and walk towards the exit. “Hey you.” I turn around. “You better watch your backs.” A chill runs down my spine, and Andy and I walk into the blinding California sunlight.   
“So what now?” Andy asks as we walk towards the parking lot. “We have nowhere to go, those evil people that are trying to kill us could still kidnap us, and…” he trails off and I see a familiar car drive up in front of the police station. The doors open, and I have never seen my parents running so fast.   
“Oh my God, what the heck happened?” my dad asks me. My mom throws her arms around me, and I roll my eyes.   
“I’m fine,” I mutter, and my mom lets go of me.   
“You’re bleeding and you’re coming out of a police station,” she snaps. “Something’s wrong.”   
“Mom, it’s fine. We just got interrogated,” I answer.   
“Interrogated for what? Where’s Joe and Patrick?” my dad asks me. Andy and I exchange looks.   
“Um… Joe is… dead,” Andy whispers. My mom turns to him in shocked unbelief.   
“What? And where’s Patrick?” she asks me.   
“Mom, it’s kind of hard to explain, but do you have something to eat? We haven’t had food in three days,” I say. My dad’s jaw drops.   
“You’re joking, right?” he asks. We shake our heads. “We have chips in the car. Get in.” We get inside my car and Andy and I gorge on the chips until we can’t eat anymore.  
“This is good,” Andy says in between mouthfuls.   
“I thought you said you hated Doritos,” my mom tells him.   
“These are Doritos?” he asks, and I start laughing.  
“This is what happens when you’re extremely hungry and you could eat anything,” I say, and Andy shrugs.   
“Yeah,” he mutters. “My parents are supposed to be in New York, so can I stay with you guys?”   
“Of course!” my mom responds. We walk into my house and Andy faceplants on the couch, groaning.   
“I’m pretty sure I have bruises everywhere,” he mumbles. I sit down on the other couch and put my head in my hands.   
“So what happened?” my dad asks us. I look up and take a deep breath.   
“You’re going to think we’re crazy,” I tell him. My dad shrugs, and I tell him everything: the kidnapping, torture, the Society, the Infinity Weapon, Rachael, Patrick killing Joe, and the interrogation. I manage to look at my dad at the end, and he takes a deep breath. “Don’t you dare send me to a mental hospital, because I’m not crazy.”  
“We believe you,” my dad says. My eyes widen.   
“You do?” I ask in disbelief.   
“I don’t think our own son would make up a story like that, especially since you’re covered in blood and you look like you haven’t slept in a decade,” he replies. I sigh in relief, when the doorbell rings. My mom opens the door and she calls,  
“Did you guys make a friend?” I stand up and walk to the door. In front of the door, smiling sweetly, is Logan, one of the people that tried to kill us. My fists clench.   
“If you don’t get out of here right now, I’m calling the cops,” I snap. Andy gets up and his eyes widen.   
“Why? I’m your friend!” Logan gasps.  
“Don’t fake it, Logan. You tried to effing kill us,” I hiss. Logan frowns.   
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Then he nods. I spin around just as someone shoots my dad in the head. I tackle my mom, the bullet missing her head by a millimeter. Andy grabs one the agents but she flips him forwards. Andy slams into the tiles, and then my mom goes down, a bullet wound in her head. My head fills with anger and pain.  
“You messed with the wrong people, you son of a bitch,” I hiss, and I punch her in the face. The agent doesn’t even flinch and I yank the gun from her hand. I shoot her in the head, and I turn just in time to see Logan running away.  
“Follow him!” Andy yells, and we both run after Logan. This has to effing stop now. And we’re going to start with Logan.  
\------  
I open the hospital room door, and inside is Joe, sitting straight up, his eyes wide in stunned disbelief.   
“Joe. Hey Joe,” I say. I close the door and Joe whips his head around.   
“W-What… Rachael? You’re dead?” I smile.   
“No, I’m not. And neither are you,” I answer. “We’ve got to get out of here now.”  
“But you’re one of the Society’s agents,” Joe whispers.   
“Let’s just say I defected from it,” I answer.   
“But Patrick… he killed me,” he manages to say. “How do you explain that?”  
“He killed you in the simulation, not in real life,” I tell him. Joe’s eyes widen.   
“This was all a dream?” he asks me.   
“Well, more like a medically induced coma that made your mind imagine things that weren’t really happening and transferred them into an extremely vivid dream, but yeah, kinda,” I say. Joe shrugs.   
“But you can’t feel pain in dreams,” he says. “Well, last time I checked.”   
“It was a neural stimuli the scientists injected into you to make your cells believe they were in pain,” I explain. Joe shakes his head.   
“So Patrick, Andy, and Pete are in like, simulations? Kind of like in Divergent?” he asks me. I nod.   
“Kind of,” I mutter, and I help him up. “We’ve got to get you someplace safe. You’re still in the Society’s clutches.” Joe takes out his IV. “I don’t want you to get brainwashed like Patrick.”   
“Wait, so Patrick’s actually brainwashed?” Joe asks me. I nod sadly.   
“And they actually did cut off his hand. That was before they put him under the simulation. But in order to have him brainwashed inside the simulation, they had to brainwash him in real life,” I state as he follows me into the hallway. “I’m pretty sure if we don’t get him out of here when he wakes up from the simulation, Courtney will turn him into another one of her agents.”  
“Who’s Courtney?” Joe asks me.   
“She’s one of the people that runs this place. She’s second in command, after the Director, but I have a weird feeling that the Director answers to someone else,” I answer. Two agents walk past and they don’t even glance at us.   
“Why didn’t they…” he trails off.   
“They still think I’m an agent, and agents are almost unkillable. They think that I’m taking you to either Courtney or the Director,” I mutter. We get in an elevator. One of Courtney’s soldiers, in black combat armor, is standing next to us, still and silent.  
“You don’t have authorization to be here…” I push him against the wall, slide his gun out of his holster and point it at him. He tries to yank me off him, but I kick him around and pinch his neck hard in the back. He gets out of my grip and tries to slit my throat with a knife, but I flip sideways, kick him in the face, and hit him hard with the barrel of my gun. He collapses to the ground. I turn to Joe and realize he’s staring at me with his jaw dropped.   
“What?” I ask him. “Change clothes with him. People will stare if you’re seen wandering the lobby in a hospital gown.” He looks down at the man.  
“Um… turn around,” he manages. I turn around and look down, picking at my painted black fingernails. After a minute, Joe tells me it’s okay to turn around. I glance at him. With his brown afro and the soldier’s combat armor, he looks like a hippie version of a navy SEAL.   
“Come on, fellow soldier,” I tell him, and when the elevator dings we walk outside. Agents walk past us and I don’t look at anyone, my head held high. Joe looks around warily. When we get outside, we walk one more block, and then I look over at him. “Come on. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back.” I take off running and Joe follows. I get to Paula’s Flowers twenty three seconds before he does, and when he arrives, he’s sweating and out of breath.   
“Jesus… how… can… you… run so fast?” he gasps.  
“I’m an agent,” I mutter, and we both walk inside.   
“Why are we at a florist?” Joe asks me.   
“Don’t ask questions, Joe,” I hiss. The robot woman behind the counter takes out a Taser and points it at Joe.   
“Woah! Calm down, lady!” he yells.   
“You are a direct threat,” the robot states.   
“No he’s not. He’s with me. Can you please let us see Icel? We need to talk with her, he’s one of the people who got kidnapped for finding the Infinity Weapon,” I tell her. The woman’s eyes narrow.   
“Follow me. If you make one sudden movement I will kill you both,” she snaps. We both nod and follow her into the back room where there’s even more flowers. The smell overpowers me, and Joe starts to cough.   
“I… have asthma,” he gasps, and then he coughs again, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. “Oh God, I need an inhaler.” We get into a small closet-like room, and then I the room starts to move downwards as soon as the robot lady closes the door.   
“Oh wow,” I whisper. “This is new.”   
\-----  
Three days in prison, and I’ve already made an escape plan with my newfound friend. We’ve kept one of the metal spoons we get for our meals, sharpening the end to a point against the ground until we have our very own spoon-knife. Steven/Vladimir paces, occasionally sitting down and doing some calculations in his head. According to him, we have a 85% chance that our plan will fail and a 15% chance it will succeed.   
“I can work with those odds,” I whisper, lying on my bunk. I have barely moved in two days, pretending to be sick as heck. My stomach rumbles as I stare at the tray of food on Steven’s lap. Pretending to be sick sucks. I tighten my grip on the spoon-knife harder. It’s hidden underneath my leg, and I take a deep breath, coughing. The door opens.  
“Okay, what the heck is going on here?” Agent Jones asks, annoyed. I try to get out my bunk and I fall to the ground. I’m not the best actor in the world, but I have to get out of here. Steven has his Vladimir cloaking shield on, and he runs towards me.  
“Hey, man, what is wrong?” he asks me. I take a deep breath, looking up at Agent Jones blankly.   
“Alright, we’re taking you…” he kneels down, and I strike. I kick him in the groin and put him into a chokehold, putting my spoon-knife to his jugular.   
“Don’t move and I won’t kill you,” I hiss. Agent Jones gasps, his eyes wide. “Open the door. Now.” Steven morphs to normal Steven, and Agent Jones collapses in a dead faint. I grab the scan card from his pocket and swipe it against the scanner, and I change into his police clothes. Sorry, I think, and I walk outside, adjusting the holster at my side. Okay. Time for part 2.  
“Come on, Vladimir,” I snap. Steven’s gone back to his Vladimir form through cloaking, and he coughs. “How do you even shoot a gun?”   
“Take off the safety, put a bullet in the chamber and pull the trigger, and expect the report.” Then he switches to his Vladimir persona. “Are you going to kill me? Is that where you’re taking me? To the electric chair?” An officer glances at us as I close the door to the cell and handcuff him.   
“No, we’re taking you to the effing infirmary, you understand? Because even though you’re a prisoner, we’re not going to kill you,” I say, and we walk towards the infirmary. There’s another police officer in here and the nurse.   
“One of the prisoners is complaining about pain in his ribs. I don’t know, maybe he broke them fighting,” I tell the nurse. The nurse frowns and looks at me.  
“Alright. I’ve never seen you here before, are you new?” she asks me. I nod silently. “Come here, Vladimir.” Steven’s eyes narrow, and then he runs.   
“Holy shit!” I yell, and the other police officer runs inside. While Vladimir is distracting them, I rummage through the cabinet, searching for my hook prosthesis. I find it in a case that says Biohazard. I yank it down and grit my teeth, putting it on. The end sears into the stump of my arm, ripping the bandage and the stitches. I cry out and turn around.   
“What…?” the nurse’s eyes widen. “Who are you?” I smile.   
“I’m Patrick,” I answer, and I tackle the policeman who’s grappling with Steven. I stab him through the heart, a pang going through me. The nurse screams. Steven goes to his normal form and he points the officer’s gun at the nurse. “Wait. Don’t kill her.”  
“Why not? She saw us, she could call reinforcements,” Steven answers.   
“Don’t kill her. Come on,” I snap, and we run outside, holding guns in our hands. Officers spin around.   
“Okay, now can I kill them?” Steven asks me as they take out their weapons. In response, I raise my gun and open fire. Steven raises his own gun and shoots, yelling, “IN YOUR FACE, SUCKERS!” at them. We keep running, even though alarms are blaring and officers are shooting at us. I spin around, shooting, and I look back. There’s a window in front of us. I throw my other gun outside and look over at Steven.  
“Go,” I say.   
“Oh no way,” he says, and then we jump out of the window. I land hard on my back tumbling down the hill. I get up and so does Steven. It’s dead night and we sprint towards the opposite side of the road, towards the forest. I hear people yelling and a spotlight blinds us. I hear gunshots, and the ground gets shredded by bullets. Steven screams, and I spin around just as he falls.   
“RUN!” he screams. I look at the police, and I shoot wildly(even though I have no idea what I'm doing)at the officers. The gun clicks empty, and I curse, sprinting towards the forest. I hit the forest and run for my life when I hear more footsteps. How could the police run that fast? And then something hits me, and I slam to the ground. A gun points at my head, and I slash wildly with my hook prosthesis. The person, a woman, screams and backs away. I get up and run, my legs burning.   
“PATRICK STUMP!” the woman yells, and then static splits the air. I falter, skidding to a stop. No no no no…   
“NO WAY! YOU ARE NOT MIND-CONTROLLING ME!” I yell and I keep running, even though part of my mind is telling me to stop. My legs stop moving, and I fall to the ground.   
“Come on. You’re coming with me so we can meet Courtney,” the woman says. She pulls me up, and drags me forward.   
“No. Let go of me!” I gasp.   
“You’re quite the escapee, you’re on the FBI’s most wanted list,” the woman says. The static keep playing, and my mind threatens to go hazy.   
“So?” I ask her. “And I’m going to kill you. Right now.” I spin around and slit her throat, but not before she stabs me with a needle in the neck. I fall to the ground, my mind spinning and hazy. This again? Really? And then everything goes black.


	10. The Lady With Anger Issues Wants Me Dead(Or Brainwashed. Or Both.)

“Rise and shine, my fellow soldiers, let's put our faith back in mayhem. We are every old broken toy born again and again, as we turn the hype into hope. We silence the noise, and we are the splinter under the world's fingernail. Today’s the day we’ve all been waiting for: the day we stop this aberration called the government, the day we get the Infinity Weapon, the day we turn the diamonds back into coal. Are you with me?” A million voice raise to shout “YES!” in agreement to Courtney’s statement. I stand in the back of the balcony, where no one can see me, and I slip away to the hallway. I hear footsteps. There isn’t anyone supposed to be here except the agents that have clearance. Then someone pushes me back and presses a gun to my head.  
“Holy… what the hell are you doing?” I ask them. Pete lowers his gun, and I back away from them.   
“Where’s the weapon?” he asks me. I shrug.  
“Why would I know? Courtney has it somewhere,” I answer. Andy raises his gun(where did they get the weapons?) and points it at me.  
“If you don’t tell me where her office is, so help me God, I will kill… wait. You’re supposed to be dead,” he says, realization dawning on him. I smile.   
“Correct. I’m supposed to be dead. But I’m not,” I say, smiling. “It’s called robotics and a very convincing AI.” Pete screams and grabs me by the neck, punching me in the face.   
“You made this happen! You started it!” he yells. “And now, you’re going to pay, Logan!” I kick him with my steel-toed boot, and Pete screams. I run, sprinting as fast as I can. I run down the stairs, footsteps pounding behind me. I run through the ranks of soldiers, standing stiff and silent in row after row. I hear Courtney yelling at the soldiers. Pete and Andy sprint through the soldiers, and I get to the door.   
“Good luck!” I shout, and I slam the door shut, but Andy pushes it open and we all fall to the ground just as hailstorm of bullets hits the door.   
“Holy crap!” Andy shouts, and he stands up.   
“Come on!” Pete shouts, and then he kicks me to the ground. I stand up, yanking out my knife and throwing it. The blade slams into Pete’s arm, and he cries out, spinning around and shooting at me. I’ve already slipped away, and I hear footsteps.   
“Through here,” I hear Andy say, and I snicker. They’re going towards the exact opposite of where they’re supposed to be going. And I’m not going to stop them.  
\-----  
I walk inside the office, flanked by two guards with assault rifles in their hands. That woman who’s supposed to be the Society’s… leader(?) is sitting behind a desk, smiling at me. I clench my right fist and raise my hook hand.   
“It is so great to finally meet you, Patrick,” the woman says, her voice saccharine sweet. I glare at her. “My name is Courtney, and I’m taking that you don’t want to be here?”  
“Screw you,” I snap. Courtney laughs.   
“Well, that’s not nice,” she tells me. She has something in her hand, and she looks up, staring at something to my left. I follow her gaze and my heart almost stops. The suitcase. The weapon. Holy crap. I take a small step to the left, and Courtney rolls her eyes.   
“Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous to leave that in the open?” I ask her.   
“Do you even know what’s inside it?” she retorts. I shrug and she smirks. “You’re not even a rebel, aren’t you.”   
“Who cares? I found this suitcase, someone told me to go give it to someone else because it was dangerous. I’m pretty sure it is dangerous, given the shit I’ve gone through,” I say.   
“And it’s only going to get worse if you don’t surrender,” Courtney says. “Listen, you could just go back to living a normal life, Patrick. Just give me the code to open it.” I take a deep breath. My parents are probably losing their minds with me missing. I could go back, but then again, I don’t even know the code to open it. And even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to Courtney, who would use whatever was in the suitcase to unleash hell on Earth.  
“You know what?” I ask her. Courtney smiles wider. “The code is ‘go fuck yourself.’” Her cheeks burn with anger and she stands, looking down at me so that I suddenly feel really small.   
“Well, I gave you a choice, rebel. Now it’s your turn to experience the consequences of your actions,” Courtney snaps. “Did he already go through the experiment?” One guard nods, and she gives something to him.  
This day keeps getting better, I think, and I bolt, slashing one of the guards’ chests with my hook prosthesis. The guard takes out his gun and puts his finger on the trigger, and then someone yanks my head back and puts me into a chokehold. I can’t breathe, gasping.   
“Don’t shoot him,” Courtney says. “He’s part of the experiment. We need him.”   
“No… you… let go… of… me…” I gasp out. Something gets pressed into my ears, and I feel sharp pricks of pain inside my ear and behind the earlobe. “Ow!” The guard lets go of me and I turn to face Courtney, raising my hook hand. I try to get the things the guard put in my ears out, but they’ve been somehow implanted into my ears. Ouch. More artificial stuff? I’m going to become a cyborg.  
“Leave,” Courtney commands, and the guards walk outside, closing the door behind them.   
“I’m going to kill you,” I snap. Courtney smiles.   
“Oh really?” she asks me.   
“What did you put in my ears?” I ask her.   
“Communication devices,” Courtney responds. “Go ahead, try to kill me. I won’t stop you.” I walk towards her, and she doesn’t move, her arms crossed. I raise my hook hand… and static in my ears stops me. Courtney smiles, and my mind goes hazy. I take a step back and lower my hand. “Okay, now that you’re better…”   
“What are you talking about?” I hear myself asking. Shit, Patrick, snap out of it, I think.   
“Come here, soldier,” Courtney says, motioning to me. I feel myself numbly walking towards her. “Do you pledge to be loyal to the Society?” NO! NO NO! I WILL NEVER PLEDGE TO BE LOYAL TO HER STUPID CULT!!  
“I will be loyal,” I hear myself say in a monotone. Courtney smiles, and then alarms start to blare. I spin around, raising my hook hand. The leader of the Society stands next to me.   
“Here,” she says, and she hands me a gun. I take it, check the clip with practiced ease(even though I've never done this before) and walk outside. I click off the safety of my gun and turn in a full circle. I hear shouts, and then I see a silhouette in the distance. I shoot blindly, and I hear someone scream. I duck behind a pillar as I hear shots fired.   
“Through here! There’s a soldier over there!” says a familiar voice. Andy. My eyes narrow and the static keeps playing in my ears. My mission is to kill them. I look from behind the pillar and see no one.   
“Patrick,” Courtney says in my ear through my comm device. “Come here.” I get inside the office and I point my gun at the door. “Shit’s about to go down.”  
\------  
The elevator stops, and the door slides open. Joe and I exchange looks, and the robot woman motions for us to follow her. I walk outside into a large, dimly lit room. There are a few dozen people milling around tables, and they look deeply involved with something, whatever it may be. We get taken to an office, where a woman is talking softly to a man wearing army gear. She turns and my heart stops.   
“Hello. Do you need anything?” Icel McIntyre’s eyes skim over Joe and then they stop at me. I can’t breathe. “Rachael…” In two steps, I cross the room and hug my mom, tears streaming down my cheeks.   
“Oh God,” I gasp, closing my eyes. I was taken from my mom when I was ten. I’ve been missing to her for seven years. I've never been happier to see someone before.  
“What are you doing here?” she asks me. Joe takes a deep breath.   
“Oh man, you’re not going to like it,” he replies. Icel frowns. “My friend found the Infinity Weapon four days ago. Then, we all got kidnapped, my friend got brainwashed, and now they’re locked in medically induced comas while mayhem ensues around them.”   
“But does the Society have the case in their possession?” my mom asks us. I nod once. “Oh God. Does your friend know the code?”  
“What? No way! He just found the suitcase randomly in his house,” Joe replies.  
“So I guess James is dead,” Icel mutters, looking at her hands. “Well. You know your way around the Society, right, Rachael?”   
“I’ve been forced to be one of their soldiers for seven years. Yes, I do,” I answer.   
“Good. I want you get the other out of the Society’s prison. And if any more people get kidnapped, I want you to help them escape. Joe, you’re staying with us,” Icel commands.   
“Why? I want to help my friends get out of this shit,” Joe snaps.   
“Because you’re not prepared to go up against the Society,” my mom says. Joe pinches the bridge of his nose.   
“Fine,” he mutters. My mom turns to me and grabs my hand.   
“Rachael, I love you, and I know there isn’t time to explain, but just in case something happens, remember this: 4-3-0-7. The Society won’t stand a chance,” she says. I take a deep breath, and I walk outside of the office. Time to burn the Society to ashes.   
\------  
“Andy, through here,” I hiss, pulling my friend into an alley. I don’t hear any gunshots or footsteps, so that means whoever was shooting at us a few minutes ago didn’t follow. I take a deep breath and I raise my gun.   
“Pete, where did Logan go?” Andy asks me. I shrug.  
“To wherever his leader is,” I answer, and we both creep towards another hallway. I press myself to the wall and peek out from behind it. There are two soldiers guarding a door at the end of the hall.   
“That looks important,” Andy whispers. “Let’s kill those motherfuckers.” I grab him and push him back.   
“Wait,” I whisper. “Those people are genetically altered. They’ll kill us.”   
“So how do we get in?” Andy asks me, his dark eyes narrowing. I run my hand through my black hair and look at the soldiers.   
“I don’t know,” I answer. Then I hear someone grunt, and when I look Andy’s gone. “Andy! Where the shit are you?”   
“Up here!” a voice hisses, and I look up. Andy’s looking at me through one of the ventilation grates.  
“So now you’re fucking Spiderman, Andy?” I ask as I get into the shaft. It’s musty and cold, and I shudder.   
“Just your friendly neighborhood…” I cut him off.   
“I will bust your pretty mouth, son of a bitch,” I snap.   
“You’re so nice,” Andy mutters, and we crawl through the shaft. “I think it’s down here.” I look down and see a desk and a chair. An office. Courtney’s office.   
“We’re coming for you, bitch,” I hiss, and I open the grate and drop down. Two people spin around. One is a woman with brown hair and beady black eyes, and the other is Patrick, his yellow eyes murderous. He raises a gun and is about to shoot me in the head when Andy lands next to me, raising his own gun.   
“Oh wow! We have company!” the woman says. This must be Courtney. I raise my gun and get up.   
“Hand it over,” I snap. Courtney looks at me innocently.  
“Hand what over?” she asks me, and then I see something near her desk. The suitcase. I run, grab it, and then Patrick pushes me into a chokehold. I kick and punch him and he backs away, but not before burying his hook hand into my arm and yanking it out. Searing pain shoots through me, and I scream. Andy points his gun at Courtney.   
“Pete, run,” Andy says. “I’ll hold her off.” My heart pounds. I glance at Patrick, then at Courtney, then at Andy. I take a deep breath, and then I run for my life. Andy turns and then someone stabs him through the throat. A choked scream yanks out of my mouth. I hear pounding footsteps behind me and I don’t need to look to see it’s Patrick.   
“Patrick, snap the fuck out of it!” I yell, and I sprint into a room filled with machines. There are people strapped to those machines, and a scientist wanders near me. I hit him in the head with the suitcase and he falls to the ground. A little girl hooked up to a machine looks at us with wild eyes. “Excuse me!” I run outside and I find myself staring at a desert. I can’t stare too long because my best friend-turned enemy is chasing me… and he wants me dead.


	11. Your Royal Imperial Majesty, King Emperor the Director

I never thought that I would die by getting stabbed in the throat. I had my death planned out: 94, die in my sleep. I never thought that this was going to happen to me. I choke on my own blood, collapsing to the ground and looking on as someone enters the room. Courtney kneels down next to me.   
“I’m sorry I had to kill you,” she says mockingly. “It was life and death.” Then everything fades to white.

 

Mind simulation 102956 shutting down…

 

Rendering consciousness in 3… 2… 1…

 

My eyes snap open. All I see is white, and I blink, looking around. Am I dead? I feel something in my arm, and when I look I realize I have an IV in the crook of my elbow. I sit up in the bed, confused. Okay, I’m dead and I’m in a hospital room. What…? I get out of the bed, take a step, and my knees give out. I yelp and grab onto the edge of the railing. Bad idea, Andy. There are clothes on a table next to me, and I change into them. I take a deep breath and turn around to face the door when I hear it open.   
“You’re awake,” says the woman standing in the doorway. Courtney.   
“You’re fucking dead? Oh God. My day just gets better,” I mutter. Courtney laughs. “What? What’s so funny?”  
“You think you’re dead,” she snaps. “You’re not. Come on.” Woah, what? That was a slight bombshell. A soldier walk into the room and I back away.   
“I am not coming with you, you motherfucking smart-ass bitch,” I hiss. Courtney’s eyebrows raise. “Oh I’m sorry, did I ruin your no-language reputation? Bitch.” The soldier crosses the room in two strides and grabs me by the arm. “Hey! Personal space, jackass!” I get punched in the gut and I stumble, gasping.   
“Be nice, Andy,” Courtney says sweetly. I glare at her.   
“Fuck you,” I snap. Then we walk outside.   
“I want him to meet the Director. Come with me,” she says. I roll my eyes. After all of this, how could a meeting be any worse?  
I was wrong.  
\-----  
Cause we are alive, here in death valley! Honestly, I am alive, and I am actually in Death Valley. And there’s the whole Patrick-being-mind-controlled thing, but I think I’ve managed to evade him. I sit down on a rock that almost sears my butt off. I get up and look around. There are some cactuses, shrubs, and a whole lot of sunlight, and also a whole lot of sand.   
“This sucks!” I shout at no one in particular. I look at the suitcase in my hand. I’m itching to open it but I don’t have the code to open it. There’s dried blood on it(not mine) and I swing it back and forth. I have to get this thing to whoever’s against the Society.   
Okay Pete… Let’s do this.  
\-----  
The double doors open, and I walk into the lobby of the Society’s HQ. My heart pounds. You have nothing to be afraid of, Rachael. I steel myself and walk towards the elevator.   
“Where to, Agent Rachael McIntyre?” the programmed elevator voice asks me pleasantly.   
“Floor 12,” I say. I need to have a little meeting with the Director. I walk outside of the elevator, and stare at the empty hall. There is one door at the end of the hallway, and I take a deep breath. I debate with my mind for a second, crossing my arms and feeling the cold gun under my jacket. Finally, I start walking towards the door. My heart pounds, and I knock on the door.   
“Come in,” the quiet but terrifyingly overpowering voice chills me to the core. The door opens, and I walk inside. Courtney is there, and so is Andy(wait, he’s awake?). Behind a large desk is a man whose face I can’t see, even though I have seen him once before.   
“Rachael, you traitor!” Andy snaps. “You made Patrick kill Joe. You made him do it! I’m going to kill you!” Courtney rolls her eyes.   
“What?” I ask. I haven’t even met Patrick, why is he accusing me of brainwashing Patrick… oh. The simulation. Shit.   
“Don’t pretend to be innocent, Rachael,” he snaps. I glare at Andy, and I turn my attention back to the Director, who clears his throat.  
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here to throw insults at each other,” the Director says. Courtney shakes her head, and she glares at Andy.   
“Let my friends go, you freak,” Andy hisses.   
“I can’t do that,” the Director answers. Andy walks towards the Director.  
“If you don’t let my friends and I go, so help me God I will kill you,” Andy snaps.   
“Calm down,” I mutter. Andy spins around and tries to slap me. I grab his wrist and meet his dark eyes.   
“Do that again and I’ll break your arm,” I whisper. “I’m trying to help you. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be fine.” Andy stares at me in shock. Finally he turns around. I let go of his wrist and look at the Director.   
“That’s enough. This is just a waste of my time. Turn him into a soldier, and then bring him back,” he snaps. Andy and I exchange. “Well? What are you two waiting for? Go!” Andy and I walk outside. Once we’re in the elevator, I take a long look at him. Black hair, dark eyes, pale skin, and his shirt has dried bloodstains on it. Jeez.   
“You want to help me? After what you did to my friends and I?” he asks me.  
“That wasn’t me,” I say, sighing.  
“Well, then it was a clone, because it looked a whole lot like you,” Andy retorts.   
“No, it was an image produced in your head by a machine,” I answer. Andy blinks, confused.   
“What are you talking about?” he asks.   
“You think you’re dead? Cause you’re not,” I say. “You were in a medically induced coma that produced very vivid experiences in your head that made you think you were awake but you really weren’t.” Andy groans, putting his head in his hands.   
“So what about Patrick and Pete?” he asks me.   
“They’re still in the simulation,” I respond. Andy’s eyes meet mine.   
“Can’t you wake them up?” he asks me. I shake my head.   
“I mean, if you want them brain-dead, then sure, I can wake them up, but I the only way to wake up from the simulation is to literally die in the simulation,” I say. “That’s how the Director designed it. If you try to wake them up in the middle of the simulation, bam. They’re brain-dead.” The blood drains from Andy’s face.   
“Never thought I’d say this, but I hope they die inside there quickly,” Andy mutters. I smile. “How are we getting out of here?” The elevator doors open, and we both gasp. There are five agents pointing guns at us. “Um, Rachael?” I take out my gun and glance at him.   
“The first one I kill, take his gun,” I answer. Then I open fire. An agent falls and Andy swoops down on his gun, pointing it and pulling the trigger. It clicks.   
“Wait, how do you do this? In the simulation it was easy, but what now?” he asks me. In response, I take off the safety of his gun. He starts firing, screaming. “OH MY GOD THIS IS INSANE!” We run through the lobby, and Andy dives under a table, firing wildly. I kick and punch agents, shooting at them, and then I tell Andy to run for his life.   
“Rachael, watch out!” Andy yells, and then searing pain shoots through my arm. Looking down, I realize an agent shot me. Crap. I spin around and shoot the agent in the head, and then we run outside. Agents follow us, but Andy and I keep running through the neighborhood. Random kids walk past us and they stare, probably wondering who these two people are that are holding guns and look like they’ve just come out of a bloodbath.   
“Through here,”I say, and I pull Andy into an alley. We both slide to the ground behind a dumpster, breathing heavily.   
“That… was… the scariest moment of my li-” I put a hand over his mouth and crawl backwards into the darkest part of the alley. I hear pounding footsteps.   
“Come on, search the neighborhood. They couldn’t have gone far,” an agent’s voice says. Andy’s eyes grow wide. We stay as still and silent as possible. The footsteps fade, and I peek out of the side of the dumpster. There’s an agent in the mouth of the alleyway, and I look at Andy and shake my head. Andy mimes a gun and points it at his head, and hen mimes dying. I nod. He takes a deep breath. Then I hear footsteps.   
“Oh God, we’re going to die,” Andy gasps out. The footsteps come closer… and then they stop abruptly. Andy and I exchange looks.   
“We found something,” an agent says. The person who was walking towards us strides back towards the other agent. The footsteps fade, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.   
“We’re alive, Andy,” I whisper. “You want to go back home?” Andy shakes his head.  
“As much as I want to, I can’t endanger my family with this stupid suitcase problem. That and they’re probably in New York,” he mutters. He shudders and puts his head back against the cold wall, closing his eyes. “You know, when I was little I used to love playing detective with my cousins, pretending to find mysterious objects and saving the world from evil agents. This,” he cracks open one eye. “Is not what I imagined it to be. For one, there wasn’t as much blood, and the good guys always won, and the bad guys were stupid and they barely came up with plans to take over the world. And now we have this organization that has an army of genetically altered people trying to take over the United States.” I laugh coldly.   
“Your imagination usually doesn’t imagine things as they should be,” I mutter. “And sometimes things happen to you that you never wanted to happen, and then your childhood is ruined forever.” Andy’s eyes narrow.  
“What are you talking about?” he asks me. I shrug.   
“When I was ten, I was playing outside in the backyard by myself. Suddenly, two strange men knocked me out, and the next thing I know, I’m strapped to a chair and a woman was telling me I was going to be part of a great army. I was kidnapped by the Society when I was ten. I had to endure them for seven effing years. I want to stop this, because I’ve seen all of the twisted ideas Courtney wants to employ to stop the United States,” I say. “Are you with me?” Andy stares at me.   
“Oh fuck yes,” he states. “Let’s beat the shit out of the Society.” We both stand up and walk out of the alley. Let’s save California and the world.


	12. Pete and I Get A Death Valley Tour(Evil Maniac Chasing Him Version)

The dead leaves crunch under my feet as I run through the thinning forest. My gun is clutched in my right hand, and my hook hand is at the ready. Where is he? Pete… I have to kill him. I get to the top of the hill and look down at the desert in front of me. Death Valley. The driest place in the world. What a fitting place to kill him. I start walking down the hill, scanning the area for Pete. WHERE IS HE? My head pounds, my mind hazy. 

 

What are you doing? Pete’s my best friend!

 

No he’s not! He’s against the Society. He wants you to die. If you don’t get that suitcase… 

 

NO! I can’t kill him! We’ve been friends since we were little. 

 

Patrick. Look at yourself. You’re part of the Society now. Your mission is to KILL PETE!

 

“Fuck off!” I yell. I blink and shake my head, and my mind goes hazy once more. You have to kill him. For once, I’m too tired to fight against the mind-control, and I start to walk through the blazing desert, careful not to look at the sun. Then, I see someone through the bushes. Pete. Kill him. I start to run as fast as I can. Pete spins around, his eyes widening in horror. He runs(by run, I mean stumbling, almost falling, and jogging, because we’re both dead tired.) I follow him to the floor of the desert. Sand gets in my eyes and I blink out the particles.   
“Patrick, snap out of it!” Pete yells. Don’t listen to him. He’s trying to confuse you. Just effing kill him! I run towards him, when a car drives past us. I hear people shouting.   
“You gotta get out of here! There’s radioactivity here!” a guy yells, and then the car is gone. I blink, wondering if it’s a mirage. I keep running, and soon we find ourselves surrounded by old, abandoned, cars… and Pete’s gone.   
“Damn it, Pete, I’m going to find you!” I scream. I have to find him, and kill him. The Society is counting on me.  
\------  
I sprint through the junkyard of cars, crouching as I run(which is really uncomfortable) and I jump into an old Pontiac Trans Am(one of my cousins is obsessed with car names) and lie there in what used to be the driver’s seat, but is now a dark hole. I just curl up there and take a deep breath. I hear someone yell,  
“Damn it, Pete, I’m going to find you!” and a chill runs down my spine.   
“Who are you?” I tinny voice whispers. I look up. A little girl is next to me, with a ragged white dress, with bare feet, and her blond hair is matted and dirty, her pale face is stained with soot, and her green eyes have a haunted look in them.   
“Please don’t tell him where I am,” I whisper. She cocks her head.   
“Tell who?” she asks me.   
“Him. Patrick,” I answer. “He’s trying to kill me, he’s brainwashed, he…” I trail off, closing my eyes. The little girl pats my head.   
“It’s okay,” she says. Then I hear a creak, and when I open my eyes, she’s gone. I look out of the car, and see Patrick walking through the junkyard, a gun in his hand. I can’t see his eyes from here, but something tells me they’re yellow.  
“Where are you?” he asks mockingly. Go away… I think. The little girl walks towards him, and my eyes widen. Patrick glares at her, and without a word, she turns and points at the Pontiac. Her eyes are yellow. Everyone I know is either brainwashed or dead. Jesus Christ. I get out of the car, take a deep breath, and run. Patrick follows me, and then we pass the junkyard and enter an RV campground(?).  
Things just start getting weirder when I hide behind one of the RVs. The door is open, and a dog is chained outside, barking at me.  
“Good boy,” I whisper, and I walk inside. Inside there’s a threadbare carpet, a table, a chair, and a kitchenette. I walk into another room and I see someone sitting on a sofa, watching TV. “Excuse me?” The person looks at me. He or she is wearing a gas mask. What the fuck?   
“Found you, Wentz,” says a voice, and then someone tackles me to the ground. I twist around and find myself staring directly at a pair of iridescent yellow eyes. Patrick. Oh shit. I try to get him off me but he stabs me through the arm. I scream and knee him in the gut. Patrick falls off me, and I get up, grabbing the suitcase and hitting him hard with it on the head. Patrick stumbles backwards.   
“Holy shit, Patrick, I don’t want to hurt you! Stop doing this!” Patrick laughs coldly.  
“Hurt me? You’re so stupid. You can’t hurt me, I’ll kill you first,” he snaps. I hear a hiss, and all of a sudden, the RV is engulfed with acrid smoke. I cough and run outside, Patrick right after me. We run into the middle of the RV campground. Patrick has lost his gun, and I have my gun, even though I don’t think I’m going to use it. A ring of people has surrounded us, and someone throws a knife at me. I drop the gun and grab the knife instead.   
“Patrick, stop. This isn’t you, you’re a good person. You’d never hurt me,” I gasp, holding my knife out with one hand, the suitcase in the other. Patrick takes a step forward, and then he stops, his brow furrowing. His eyes flicker from yellow to blue to yellow again.   
“I-” he starts, his eyes meeting mine. Then they harden, and he smiles cruelly at me. “That’s funny. You thought you could break through?” Then he lunges at me and I drop the suitcase, grabbing his arms and trying to at least just knock him out. He I stab him through the chest with my knife and a pang goes through me.   
“Let go of me!” I scream, and he stabs me through the gut with his hook hand. I stumble back, and then Patrick tackles me, stabbing me again and again through the stomach and chest until I can’t move, spots dancing in my vision. The last thing I see is Patrick standing up and turning around… and then everything goes black.   
\------  
I turn in a full circle, staring daggers at the people around me. They back away as they realize that I’m dangerous. I raise my hook hand, my adrenaline coursing through me wearing off. Then, I feel pain shoot through my ribs, and I put my hand against my chest. It comes back covered in blood. Oh God, what? I lean down and grab the suitcase. It feels cold and heavy in my blood-slicked hand. I try to take a step but then my knees give out and I fall.   
I blink spots out of my vision to see two agents walking towards me. One takes the suitcase from my hand, and she looks at me.  
“Oh well. At least we have it,” she says, and then turns and walks away just as my mind clears. I look to the side and see a bloodied body. Pete.   
“Oh my God,” I croak. I feel myself fading and I blink, shaking my head. I hate the agents. I hate the Society. Hate this stupid mind-control that made me kill my best friends. I close my eyes and then the world fades to…

 

Darkness.   
\-----  
So by the end of this, you’re going to be reading this and saying, Really? Everyone’s dead? This sucks. YOU’RE WRONG! It’s going to get better, I promise. Just bear with me. Because… I’m not dead!(Well duh, or else I wouldn’t be narrating this.) And neither is Pete. Rachael makes a comeback. And I almost punch her in the face. And we finally figure out what the Infinity Weapon is! YES! Or not. That’s going to take a while to get to, but before, get ready.   
I promise you, it’s going to be fun.


	13. This Was All Just a Dream...?

“Wake up,” A voice says. I struggle to open my eyes. “Patrick, wake up, NOW!” I open my eyes and stare at Rachael.  
“You’re dead,” I whisper. “I’m dead.” I look around. The only thing I can see is a blur. I thought that in Purgatory, at least I’d get my vision back and I didn’t need to wear glasses anymore.  
“Oh wait, I forgot,” Rachael says, and she grabs something I think are my glasses. She almost stabs me in the eye, and then I can see again. I adjust my glasses on my nose and sit up.  
“So this is Purgatory. It’s a lot different than I expected it to be,” I mutter, looking around at the hospital room I’m in, when Rachael grabs my head and pulls me to the side.  
“Silly, you’re not in Purgatory. You’re alive,” she snaps. My eyes widen.  
“Wha…” I get up out of the bed. “You’re joking.” Rachael glares at me.  
“Why would I be joking about something like that?” she asks me. “ I don’t usually joke around about these things.”  
“Never mind,” I mutter. I look at her over my glasses(Translation: I see a brown, black, and white blob) and I walk towards her. “I don’t trust you.” Then I raise my… wait. Where’s my hook prosthetic for my hand? I look down at the stump of my hand, and Rachael glares at me.  
“Come on,” she says, and grabs my hand. “And I’ll advise you to not freak out about the things you see in the hospital. Some can be pretty… gruesome. I’m Rachael.”  
“I know,” I answer, confused. She helped me(then she mind-controlled me.) Rachael glances at me strangely.  
“Uh, stalker?” she says, her eyes narrowing.  
“Um, you saved my life,” I tell her. “You don’t remember?”  
“It was probably a mind-generated image. I’ve never met you. You probably saw me in a simulation, but in real life, you haven’t met me,” Rachael responds, and my mind spins. Could this week somehow get even more confusing? “Wait.” She tosses me a bundle of clothes, and I catch them. “Put them on. People will think you’re a soldier.” I change and she waits.  
“Okay, come on,” I mutter, and we walk outside of the hospital room. My armor feels weird and heavy, and I wonder how the soldiers can even move in this. We pass a woman in the hall whose brain is in a capsule next to her and she’s connected to it by dozens of tubes. The fact that this isn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen this week scares me. Rachael, however, stares at the woman.  
“Holy shit, didn’t know they were doing brain transplants now,” she whispers. I shrug and we keep walking. I hear someone screaming, and then static splits the air. Instinctively, I cover my ears. “Calm down. They’re not directly sending the static to you, so you don’t get brainwashed.” I take a deep breath.  
“So tell me something. WHY THE HECK AM I STILL ALIVE IF I JUST GOT STABBED FIVE MINUTES AGO? And is Pete alive, then?” I ask her. Rachael sucks in a sharp breath.  
“Shit, I forgot about Pete,” she whispers.  
“Shame on you Rachael. How could you forget about-oomph!” Rachael punches me in the stomach.  
“Stop being sassy, Patrick. Sassiness doesn’t suit you,” she hisses. I stare at her in disbelief. This isn’t at all like the kind girl I met in the truck after I almost got killed by children: this Rachael is a bad-ass.  
“Let’s just find Pete and get out of here,” I say. We both walk into another hospital room. Inside, Pete is lying on the bed, still and silent.  
“Pete, I know you’re awake. You’re bad at faking,” Rachael snaps. Pete cracks one eye open.  
“Rachael? Patrick? You guys are… wait. Was I in a coma?” his eyes widen, realization dawning on his face.  
“Get up and come on,” I snap. Pete’s eyes narrow. “Come on! Do you want to get brainwashed by the Society?” Pete shakes his head. “Then come with us.” We all get outside of the room. We probably look like a bunch of freaks, me in my soldier combat armor, Rachael in her normal clothes, and Pete in his hospital gown.  
“Through here,” Rachael pulls us into another hallway. “We’ve got to get to the lobby without being seen, and I don’t have any more soldier armor.”  
“So, we’re escaping? What about the suitcase?” Pete asks me. I take a deep breath.  
“The suitcase we can get later. For now, I have to get both of you guys out of here,” Rachael responds. “First let’s focus on surviving.”  
\------  
So this is Patrick. Huh. He wasn’t what I was expecting. He’s not that tall(maybe 5’6” or 5’7”) with short blond hair that’s stuck up in every single direction. His skin is pale, although his cheeks are flushed from stress(?) and his eyes are sky blue, framed by glasses which make them even bigger than they already are. He looks like an aspiring singer(sorry, I try to find out as much as can from people from their looks) and his good hand is tapping against his leg.  
“Wait, we have to go through here,” Patrick says. “There’s a whole bunch of guards over there, I can hear them.” I listen, my enhanced ears picking up the sounds of footsteps. I can hear them, but since when can a non-enhanced person like Patrick hear stuff like that? I shrug, and I we walk into the opposite hall.  
“So now what?” Pete is taller than I am, with jet black hair, tan skin, and eyes so dark they look black. “Without the suitcase-well, whatever’s in the suitcase-we can’t stand a chance against the Society.”  
“We can’t but I’m not risking getting killed by the Director for this. I’d prefer to survive another day, thank you very much,” I answer.  
“Well, that’s true. Besides, we don’t even know the code,” Patrick mutters.  
“4-3-0-7,” I whisper as it clicks in my mind what my mom was telling me. “Holy shit. I know the code.” Pete stares at me.  
“We have to find it,” he says. I shake my head.  
“It’s too dangerous. I don’t think we can go up against an army of soldiers,”I say. “Let’s just focus on getting out of here.” We run towards the elevator and get inside. I punch the button to go to the lobby, when I hear someone yell at me.  
“Come back here! Wait!” I spin around and shoot the agent in the forehead. Pete takes a step back. The doors of the elevator slide shut just as another agent comes running towards the elevator.  
“This elevator leads to a back entrance, which is probably going to be guarded by six or more people, especially since they know that two people have escaped from the hospital wing,” I tell Pete and Patrick.  
“Alright. We’ve got to be ready,” Patrick mutters, but I can see the fear in his blue eyes. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I gasp.  
“Oh no. Looks like someone tried to escape,” Courtney says mockingly, smiling. “Andy and Joe may have gotten out, but you aren’t so lucky.” We all exchange looks. “Oh, Rachael, what a shame. You were one of our best. But it doesn’t matter. Come with us.” I’m so shocked that I barely hear Patrick say something.  
“No,” he whispers. Courtney turns and stares at him.  
“What did you say?” she asks him softly.  
“I’m not coming with you, even if it’s the last thing I do. I’m done with your stupid Society,” he snaps. Courtney laughs, and a soldier points his gun and Patrick.  
“Bullshit,” Courtney hisses. “You’re not escaping.” Patrick’s eyes narrow.  
“Sure,” Pete mutters. “Come on.” Then I shoot at all of the soldiers. Some of them get out of the way, and others return fire. Pete yells and grabs his arm, which is covered in blood from the gunshot wound.  
“YOU CAN’T STOP THE SOCIETY!” Courtney screams.  
“We can try,” I respond, and I shoot Courtney in the head. She falls backwards, sparks flying.  
“What the…” Patrick looks at Courtney’s body. I curse under my breath.  
“AI,” I mutter. “Let’s move.” We don’t care about hiding anymore, we just run. Soldiers look at us, and some shoot at us. I spin around, kick a gun out of a soldier’s hand, and grab it. Finders keepers, losers weepers, I think. I give the gun to Patrick, who stares at it.  
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he whispers, and then he takes off the safety and opens fire. Soldiers fall backwards, blood spraying everywhere.  
“Oh Jesus,” Pete gasps as blood flies onto his face. He grabs a soldier’s gun, almost drops it, and then he fires. “Holy… okay.” We get outside of the building and keep running.  
“Come on!” Patrick yells. “We’ve got to get someplace safe.” I run past a lamborghini, and Pete stumbles, falls on the hood, and leaves a streak of blood on the car.  
“Oh, the owner’s gonna be pissed,” I say.  
“I don’t give a shit,” Pete mumbles. We run up to Patrick’s house, and I knock hard on the door.  
“There’s someone coming!” Patrick gasps, looking back to the street. There are two soldiers walking towards us.  
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” I scream, and then the door opens. A little girl is standing there, and we push past her. Patrick pulls her into the house, closes the door, and locks it, pushing a chair in front of it. The girl’s eyes widen. Now that I look at her, I realize she looks exactly like Patrick(minus the glasses.)  
“W-What’s going on?” she asks.  
“Lindsey, we’ll tell you later,” Patrick answers. The little girl’s eyes narrow.  
“Patrick? Is that you?” A voice asks. Patrick spins around, and a woman walks out of another room. She has shoulder length brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles on her pale skin.  
“Hey, mom,” Patrick starts, but then his mom pulls him into a bear hug.  
“Oh my God, you’re okay,” his mom whispers. Then she pulls away from him and glares. “What do you have to say for yourself? Jesus, you almost gave me an effing heart attack! You were on the missing list! You’ve been lost for a week. A WEEK! Do you realize that I thought you were kidnapped, that you had died?”  
“Um, I kind of was kidnapped,” Patrick answers. “Along with Pete, Andy, and Joe.” Patrick’s mom’s eyes widen.  
“What!?” she gasps. “And why is Pete covered in blood? And why is there a girl I’ve never met with A GUN IN HER HAND here? And… OH MY GOD WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?” Patrick looks down at his stump.  
“Oh, that? That’s honestly the least horrible thing that’s happened to me this week,” he mutter. Patrick’s mom lets out a strangled scream.  
“Excuse me, Mrs. Stump?” Pete asks. Patrick’s mom glances at him, with blood covering the left side of his face. “I’m going to take a shower.” He promptly walks upstairs.  
“Okay, who are you?” Patrick’s mom asks me. I outstretch my hand.  
“Rachael McIntyre,” I answer. “Pleased to meet ya.” Patrick’s mom shakes my hand.  
“Tell me everything about what happened,” she commands. I take a breath and tell her everything. When I finish, she’s staring at me with her mouth completely dropped open. “Oh God.” Patrick nods.  
“Yep,” he mutters. “And so now, if we don’t get the Infinity Weapon from the Society, they’ll destroy half the country.” He adjusts his glasses. “More destruction. Yay.” Patrick’s mom facepalms.  
“This is crazy,” she whispers. “You guys are going to stop the Society? I don’t approve.”  
“Uh, I can do what I want,” Patrick retorts.  
“Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, Patrick,” his mom snaps.  
“Um, while we’re arguing, the Society has already started making its army, and now if we don’t stop them, who know when they’ll be stopped,” I say. Patrick and his mom both stare at me.  
“Well come on, then. Who’s going to help us?” Patrick asks me.  
“The rebels. That guy you saw in that video,” Pete says, walking downstairs. He’s eating a donut. Where he got that donut is beyond me, but now I’m hungry.  
“Pretty sure that guy’s dead,” Patrick responds, turning around. “Hey, I want one.” Pete shrugs.  
“I know where they are,” I say. “That’s where we were going.”  
“Before, you know, the soldiers and Courtney tried to kill us,” Pete answers in between bites. “I’m not going to go outside now that I know that there are psychopathic murderers trying to kill us.”  
“We can just stay here,” Patric says, pointedly staring at his mom. His mom starts to say something but then closes her mouth.  
“Fine,” she says. “But if something happens, I’m counting on you to defend me, cause I’d be pretty scared if an agent just randomly jumped through the living room window.”  
“Don’t jinx it,” I mutter, and I sit down on the couch. Patrick takes off the armor on his arms and he throws the metal pieces to the ground.  
“I’m honestly done,” he mutters, and promptly collapses onto the couch, glasses squashed underneath his face. I just sit there, looking around. Someone hands me a bowl of chips. I take it automatically, eat some chips, and then pass it to Patrick.  
“Are you hungry?” I ask him, my eyes closed.  
“Hell yes I am,” Patrick replies, sitting up and grabbing the bowl of chips from my hand. I look at him and burst out laughing. His glasses are crooked and they’re sliding off his nose. “What?” I push his glasses onto his nose, and he shrugs.  
“Where’s Pete?” I ask.  
“I have no clue,” Patrick answers. My eyebrows raise. “Pretty sure he’s not outside, because he was terrified about the whole,’seeing the soldiers and being killed’ thing.”  
“Yeah, that’d be bad,” I mutter. Lindsey sits on the couch between us.  
“Whatcha doing, guys?” she asks, looking at both of us.  
“Eating chips and talking about life,” I answer. “Is this your sister?”  
“Unfortunately,” Patrick mutters, and I laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing your summer assignments?”  
“Aren’t you supposed to be prepping for college?” Lindsey retorts. Patrick rolls his eyes.  
“Right now, I’m just enjoying that I’m alive,” he says. “But, ya know, I’m going to have to risk my life. Again. And even though I don’t want to, I might as well.”


End file.
